Renegade
by Hydroxide
Summary: Prince Wu: the playboy, the comic relief, the guy who always needs rescuing. But what if that was no longer true? After a journey to the Spirit World, the prince awakens ten days later a changed man. Now, the prince leads a double life. Korra and her friends gain a mysterious new ally, Kuvira gains a new enemy, and the Last Stand for Republic City ends very, very differently.
1. Chapter 1

**Book 4 of Legend of Korra has been amazing. The series has truly bounced back from its slump in Book 2 to deliver a thrilling performance, and we're now building up to a massive finale that could easily rival that of Avatar: The Last Airbender.**

**In the fandom, there's probably one character in the recent season that's never been taken seriously: Prince Wu. Spoilt, bratty, timid and always full of himself, he's either the comic relief or the Woobie that needs saving. While he's redeemed himself and undergone some serious character development in recent episodes, the fact remains that he's a side character; nothing more than a sometimes-welcome distraction from the blockbuster Team Avatar and their adventures.**

**So here's a different path that Prince Wu could have gone down. Here's something completely different.**

**This takes place between Book 4's Episode 9: Beyond the Wilds, and Episode 10: Operation Beifong.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Someone Else**

* * *

_Things are heating up in Republic City! United Forces troops have arrived in Republic City under the command of General Iroh, ready to defend it from a possible attack. President Raiko has pledged to protect Republic City from Kuvira at all costs! But with Fire Lord Izumi unwilling to commit her troops to a pre-emptive strike, things are still looking bleak for Zhao Fu and its inhabitants!_

_Meanwhile, Avatar Korra has regained her mojo! With the dry spell of the past three years seemingly behind her, our beloved avatar says she is ready to kick butt and take names once more! Republic City can only hope that she proves a match for Kuvira and her aggression._

_And on a final note, the ladies can finally rest easy knowing that the Earth Kingdom's deposed monarch Prince Wu is up and about once more! Our listeners may remember that two weeks ago our young prince went missing, prompting a city-wide search for this wandering womaniser! Thanks to the efforts of Avatar Korra and the Air Nomads, he is back home and as safe as can be. The nightlife of Republic City will be even livelier with him back in action!_

_This is Shiro Shinobi, signing off!_

* * *

"Korra! Over here!"

The building was falling apart. Vines as thick as pillars snaked through the windows and around doorways, choking the abandoned building like tentacles.

Asami waved from the furthest door down the corridor. "I found him!"

Korra leapt nimbly over an upturned desk and dashed towards the doorway. Her light blue blouse was drenched in sweat—the vines had sealed off almost all the windows, making the whole place like a big oven.

She had traced Prince Wu's energy signature to this very building only six hours ago. For a whole ten days since he had disappeared, Korra never stopped trying. Nobody knows how or why he got lost in the first place. One moment he was simply talking a walk outside the Sato residence, stretching his legs—then he disappeared.

She knew how important it was to make sure the young prince was safe—no matter how boneheaded or clueless he was, Prince Wu was the legitimate ruler of the Earth Kingdom, and hence high on the list of Kuvira's targets. It was important enough that Tenzin dispatched half the Air Nomad trainees to search Republic City for the prince.

But Korra could not find him by searching through her connection with the spirit vines. Jinora tried—she failed too. It was as if he had _vanished _from not only the physical world, but the spirit world as well. _That's impossible! _She had protested. _We could find everyone else through the spirit vines when they were captured. Why couldn't we find Prince Wu? _Jinora had no answer.

But the fact remained that the spirit vines were of no help. Mako had been recalled to the Police Headquarters to supervise Republic City's newly-declared state of emergency. Bolin and Chief Lin were missing. So Korra and Asami searched for Prince Wu the old-fashioned way: building by building, district by district.

Avatar Korra examined the spirit pod. Inside, the prince lay suspended like a statue; sitting, almost like he was relaxing after another kelp bath and massage. Around the pod, a massive network of vines extended, entangling the brickwork of the walls behind.

"Think you can get him out?" Asami glanced around the room.

Korra cracked her knuckles. "I'll try."

She placed a hand on the nearest vine, and felt the pulse of energy answer her touch. "He's alright, I think. I'll need to meditate, try to find him in the spirit world. Then I'll be able to free him."

Asami nodded, sweeping aside a curl of soft black hair. "I'll keep an eye out."

Korra had just taken her seat on the rugged, splintered floor when—

_Crack_

She looked up.

The pod was cracking. Thick, viscous fluid was leaking onto the floor. And the vines were moving. Retracting.

And the walls were shaking too.

From inside the cracking pod, she could see Prince Wu's body tumble forwards, ever so slightly, his cheek pressing against the thin membrane.

"Korra, you _have _to get him out of there before this place comes down on our heads!" Asami yelled, dashing forward.

Without a word, the two women leapt towards the pod, just in time to catch Prince Wu's limp body as it fell from the remains of the spirit pod.

Korra grunted under the prince's weight. He looked like he had just dozed off—the stupid curl on his forehead was still intact, and he didn't look injured. In fact, he looked like he had been having the time of his life. Korra found it hard to suppress her resentment.

_Ten days wasted trying to find this guy, and he looks like he'd just been taking a long nap._

"Alright, time to get us out of here."

And with a stomp of her feet and a firm thrust of her fist, Korra earthbended the nearest wall, crumbling it away and letting light and air into the building for the first time in three years.

* * *

"Oh, my dear prince…" The old woman mumbled sadly, sponging the young prince's face with a silk cloth with all the reverence of someone polishing a sacred relic.

"Auntie Yin, he's fine. He'll probably just need a while before he wakes up." Very gently, Korra pried the wet cloth from Yin's trembling hands. "And you've been wiping his face for the past forty-five minutes."

"Beauty deserves appreciation!" The elderly grandmother huffed.

Korra sighed. Prince Wu was still asleep, an expression of utter peace on his face, his ruined clothing replaced with a spare change of clothes from one of Mako's many relatives. He hadn't so much as twitched.

She turned away. _I'll get back to Wu later. Right now, I need to find out where—_

"_Gah!"_

Korra whirled around just in time to hear the tinkling sound of a bowl breaking on the floor.

Prince Wu sat bolt upright in his bed, breathing heavily. His face was pale, his eyes wide open and darting from side to side like a feral beast. Mako's grandmother was massaging his shoulder lovingly, muttering sweet nothings into his ear.

"Wu! You're awake!" Korra exclaimed.

His wild eyes settled on hers.

"Avatar Korra." Flat. Matter-of-fact.

Ten days in the spirit wilds. A mere few hours had almost been more than Korra could handle, and that was with the benefit of years of training and mental preparation. Prince Wu had spent more time in the other world than Korra would ever dream of enduring.

Prince Wu would have been screaming and wailing about the terrors of the spirit world. Possibly falling to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, or crumbling into the embrace of the closest person next to him. A gibbering, incoherent wreck.

Instead, he was calm. His breathing had slowed, his eyes focused on Korra's surprised expression with an intensity that she found uncomfortable.

_What happened to him inside there?_

"Prince Wu?" Korra ventured. "Are—are you okay? Do you know where you are?"

He exhaled, then looked around, stretching his neck gingerly.

"Mako's house," he answered.

"Do you remember anything at all?"

He seemed to hesitate.

"Oh, you have no idea."

_What's he talking about?_

"Korra, I need to know." Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, he rose to a full sitting position.

"Know what?" Korra asked, thrown off-guard.

"What is today's date?"

_Time doesn't pass the same in the spirit world, _Korra recalled from one of Tenzin's lessons. _Time is only a human construct to help us make sense of the world around us. In the spirit world, there is no sun or moon to mark the passing of the seasons. You can spend ten minutes in there and age a hundred years. You can walk the spirit wilds for endless lifetimes and return to find that you were gone for an hour._

So which was it for Prince Wu?

"It is," Korra answered, "the fifteenth day of the Sixth Month, in the Year of the Dog."

Wu's eyes widened. Surprise was reflected in them, then—sadness?

"Ten days. Only ten days."

Korra nodded. "After you went missing, we spent a lot of time hunting for you. Asami and I found you in one of the ruined buildings downtown. You were inside one of those spirit pods. We couldn't sense your energy anywhere, that's why I couldn't find you earlier."

She pressed him. "What happened, Wu? How did you get there in the first place? Do you remember anything at all?"

Prince Wu bowed his head, thoughtful.

"Avatar Korra," he began, and Korra stiffened. _This isn't like Wu at all, all formal and reserved. This doesn't sound like that boneheaded prince full of himself like a hot-air balloon._

"Avatar Korra, thank you for rescuing me. I am truly in your debt." He smiled. "Perhaps I'll talk about what happened to me later—after I've properly rested, and—caught up—on things."

"Um, sure. Okay." Korra pursed her lips. "I've phoned up Republic City's best doctor. He'll be here shortly to attend to you—"

"I appreciate it, Korra, thank you." Prince Wu rose to his feet, spurring a round of clucking and fussing from Mako's grandmother about how he had to take it easy and conserve his strength.

"But I'd like to spend a few moments alone. Just—to heal on my own time." He nodded resolutely, first towards Korra, then towards the elderly woman. She bowed and retreated meekly, seemingly miffed that her contact with royalty was ending so soon.

Korra raised an eyebrow, nonplussed. "Alright, I—guess." Shrugging, she retreated out of the door. Mako's grandma followed closely after, turning back briefly to give Wu the biggest, warmest smile she could.

Prince Wu walked to the window. Outside, the birds were chirping in the warm sunlight, riding on the gentle breeze that caressed Asami's hilltop villa. He looked up at the clear blue sky, and breathed in deeply.

_I used to look up and see a purple sky. And the birds were six feet long, had three claws, and all wanted to kill me._

This was going to take some getting used to.

_I've been gone for so long. I've aged in there; probably grew older by—how much? Years, decades? I've seen things, felt things I never thought possible._

He looked at his hands. Smooth, without blemish, full and pristine with the silky texture that came from regular massages with spinach oil and peach blossom. The hands of a prince raised in opulence and comfort.

He blinked twice, half expecting the vision to change. To see the familiar hands he had come to know; blistered, scarred, rough and strong. Battle-hardened weapons, forged from his experience in the deepest and most terrifying depths of the Spirit World. The hands of a warrior.

_Another life._

_There's a reason I came back._

Kuvira. The Great Uniter, who forged an empire from scattered cities and towns—over thousands of demolished homes, and tens of thousands of prisoners. The woman who now stood at the head of a massive army that drew ever closer to the borders of Republic City with each passing day.

And he was—who?

Prince Wu. The deposed, humiliated monarch. The squeamish playboy who couldn't be trusted to take care of himself, let alone a kingdom. A man so useless that three months ago, Kuvira's ascension was seen to be a _good _thing by at least half the Earth Kingdom.

At least, that's who he used to be.

_The Spirit Wilds—they change you. _He glanced sideways at his reflection in the old scratched mirror on the dressing table. _You never leave the same person as you were when you entered._

And the Wilds had made him someone else. Something else.

Prince Wu knew what had to be done. _Kuvira needs to be stopped. Every day she stays in power is one more day that innocent people languish in her prison camps, and one more day that the world lives in fear._

_But I can't do that as Prince Wu._

The young prince looked at himself in the mirror. How strange, how _alien _his body looked now—as if nothing had changed, as if the past ten years of hardship had never happened. In a way, they never did—his physical body remained unchanged. But his spirit had been transformed beyond repair by his journey in the Spirit World.

_I can be something else for the Earth Kingdom. _He tightened his fist resolutely. _Prince Wu may not inspire the people. But I don't have to be Prince Wu._

There was an old story, a favourite bedtime tale that Wu's babysitter read to him in childhood. A young king ruled over a city that was full of crime and hardship. Heartbroken, he sought to change things by passing new laws and sending out more guards, but the people only grew sadder. And so he decided to go into the city himself. Donning a mask, he went out into the streets at night, apprehending criminals and tying them up for the city guards to find. Slowly, the city became safer as the people whispered in awe of this new hero, and criminals learned to fear his mask. The citizens spoke greatly of this masked stranger, who gave them hope of a better future, and sighed in regret that the king who now ruled over them was not able to inspire that same hope. Only the king himself knew—they were one and the same.

_I can be a symbol. I can inspire people to resist Kuvira, to show them that all is not lost. I can fight for those who cannot fight against her._

But there was one problem.

Wu tightened his fist. He wasn't soft anymore, at least not on the inside. The years—at least, in that other world; in truth he was gone for only days, and the thought irked him—had toughened him up. Honed him, made him stronger and deadlier. But there was one obstacle that could never be overcome. He was a non-bender. And his enemies were led by possibly the most powerful Earthbender in the world.

It was a simple equation. Bending versus no bending. And bending would always win.

Unless.

Once in recent history, it wasn't so. Four years ago, a group of non-benders had managed to go up against the best benders in Republic City, and almost won. Substituting bending power with speed, agility, and technology, they had managed to bring the city almost to its knees, defeating the metal-bending police force that was trained by none other than Toph Bei Fong herself.

_I need to find the Equalists. Or what's left of them._

But the movement had collapsed with the demise of their leader, Amon. With non-benders accepting the newly elected President Raiko as their common representative, the paramilitary nature of the Equalist movement was no longer acceptable. Now, they existed as nothing more than a memory of a turbulent past, and a warning for the future.

But one Equalist remained.

_I need to find out how to beat Kuvira. I need the Equalists' methods, tactics, and weapons._

_To do that—_

—_I need Hiroshi Sato._

* * *

"Prince Wu?" Mako's grandma opened the door slowly. The room had been quiet for the past few hours.

"Prince Wu? Are you resting? I made you some—" Her mouth fell open, and she almost lost her grip on the bowl of lotus-and-red-bean-soup.

The bed was empty and made, with the sheets neatly folded and the pillows properly fluffed up. Prince Wu's clothes were gone. And there was a note on the table.

_Gone into the city to meet some girlfriends. Don't worry about me. Love, Wu._

"Oh, that prince. Always going off and having exciting adventures," she huffed. "Though he really should take it easy—he hasn't even had tea yet!"

Shaking her head, she set about rearranging the room. Midway, she paused as she realised something was missing.

"Now where did I put that red scarf?"

* * *

**Republic City Prison**

**Block D, Maximum Security Wing**

"Alright, playtime's over, back to your cells!" The harsh, barking command of the warden bellowed from the public announcement system.

Hiroshi Sato sighed sadly, putting the newspaper back on its stand in the library. Despondently, he shuffled back through the corridor, trying his best to avoid eye contact with any of the rougher sort of prisoners that inhabited the block.

The dark, cramped interior of his cell beckoned. He had just stepped over the threshold when the buzzer sounded and the metal grille slammed shut behind him.

Sato sat down slowly, his joints popping painfully as he slumped onto the hard bed. Another night in prison. Another day in a long, long prison sentence.

_Wherever you are, Asami, and whatever path you choose for yourself…_

He blinked away a single tear from his eye.

…_I hope you know that even in the depths of this prison, I still love you._

"You don't seem too happy with your stay here."

Sato sat bolt upright, glancing around frantically.

"Who—who's there?" He fiddled with his glasses, his hands trembling.

His eyes widened in terror as a lean, catlike figure slinked noiselessly from the ceiling, his feet touching the stone floor with barely a squeak.

"Be calm. I'm not here to hurt you." The intruder's voice was muffled. He was clad in a dark coat, his face wrapped in a red scarf that revealed only his eyes. In the near-darkness, they gleamed like the eyes of a night creature.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Slowly, Sato began to back away.

"Someone who needs your help. And someone who can give you your freedom."

Sato faltered. "My freedom?"

"I can break you out of here. But in return…"

The figure took a step closer, and his eyes narrowed.

"I need to know the location of the last remaining stash of Equalist weaponry."

"No, no." Sato shook his head. "They've all been destroyed. There aren't any Equalists anymore."

"Don't lie to me, Hiroshi." The man's voice dipped low into a grumble. "You know as well as I do that the Republic City police didn't clean up _all _of your work. I checked the registers and police records, and some things don't tally. Your old equipment is still hanging around somewhere in the city."

The intruder pointed at Sato. "I need it."

Sato shook his head, firmer this time. "No, no. I've left that life behind. And even if you could take me out of here…"

He lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping. "Asami would never forgive me. For going back to my old life. I promised her—promised on the memory of her mother. Don't you understand?"

He sat back down on the bed. "I deserve to be in prison. I deserve all of this for what I did."

"I know." The masked man nodded, sitting next to Sato. "You have hurt many people. Destroyed many lives. Your inventions gave power to a madman and almost tore Republic City apart, and your lust for revenge overrode your love for your daughter. No one deserves to be in prison more than you."

Suddenly, his hand reached out and landed on Sato's shoulder, causing the older man to wince. "But you must know why I'm doing this."

The grip tightened. "I need to take down Kuvira. I need to fight the oppression of the people in the Earth Kingdom. And to do that, I need your weapons—and your expertise."

The man stood back up. "Asami is working hard and giving everything she has in order to make sure Kuvira doesn't succeed. If you truly want to honour your daughter, to be worthy of her—fight for the cause that she is now fighting for. Help me stop Kuvira."

Sato jerked as his cell door suddenly swung open with a metallic clang. Then the same sound was repeated again and again, down the corridor. And then the entire block.

All the cell doors in Republic City Prison had just been unlocked.

"What—"

"That," the man said calmly, "is our exit strategy."

The lights went out.

At the same time, a roar filled the prison. A howling, disordered noise, the cries of hundreds of prisoners out of their cells; some looking to escape, others to cause as much chaos as possible.

"What's that?" Sato asked, confused.

"A prison riot."

"You _started a prison riot?_"

"I planted a bomb half an hour ago to disable the power lines. All the cell doors in Republic City Prison are now open."

Then the shouts of alarmed guards, rushing out from the corridors, and the alarm being rung. Then, from the nearby hallway, the sound of fighting—of metal and rock and fire and water being bent and hurled as the prison descended into a chaotic melee.

"In two minutes, another bomb will disable the locking system on the main gate and cause it to open. In five minutes, backup generators will come back online and reinforcements will arrive from the city centre. The riot will be put down. The inmates will be put back in their cells."

The intruder stepped towards the open door. "You can come with me. Or you can stay here. Make your choice."

He checked his watch. "Take your time. You've got fifteen seconds."

Sato made his decision.

* * *

**Republic City Prison**

**Half an hour later**

Republic City police moved quickly. In half an hour, the riot was quelled, with Acting Chief of Police Mako personally taking the lead in bringing down the city's most hardened criminals. Within an hour, the situation was under control. More than a dozen inmates were also in the infirmary…with burn injuries sustained from their tussle with Mako.

Mako sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he surveyed the damage from the upper floor corridor. "How did this happen?"

"We found traces of explosives near the power mains." An officer flipped through his clipboard. "Looks like someone disabled the power to the prison, causing every cell door to spring open—and causing this mess."

"Bring in some technicians to get it fixed. I want this vulnerability patched up so _this _doesn't happen again." Mako tried to stem his growing headache. "And get forensic down here to look at the scene. Figure out who did this."

The officer saluted. "Sir, there's one more thing. All prisoners are accounted for, except one."

"Who?"

"Hiroshi Sato."

Mako's blood froze.

_Asami needs to hear about this._

* * *

**1900 hours**

**Republic City Bay**

Wrenching the gear stick, the stranger killed the engine. The speedboat was now stranded in the middle of the bay, with open water on all sides and no way off.

He turned to Sato, who was shifting nervously in the back seat.

"Now, let's get to business. I need the location of your remaining Equalist equipment."

Sato shivered, his unkempt white hair trembling in the wind. "Before I got captured, I managed to hide backups of some of my old equipment and designs, as well as some new equipment that never made it to production. They're in an underground safehouse."

"Where is it?" The man's eyes narrowed from under his scarf.

"City Square, underneath Little Ba Sing Se Fashion Mall."

The stranger's eyes now widened in surprise. "Of all the places to be—"

"In my defence, the mall wasn't there three years ago." Sato scowled. "I wanted a nice, quiet, low-profile hideout. I didn't count on having a _shopping mall _built on top of it."

The inventor shivered again, drawing his arms inward.

"You doing alright?" The stranger asked, putting his hand back on the gear stick.

The aging inventor gulped. "Not quite. I happen to notice that there's no way for me to escape from this speedboat. It's too far in any direction to swim, even if I wasn't so old. And we're miles from any patrols."

"So?"

"So now that you have what you need," Sato quavered, "what's stopping you from chucking me overboard to cover your tracks?"

The man's hand froze on the gear stick. Slowly, he turned back to Sato, who glared back at him.

"Do you think I'm that sort of man?" the stranger asked plainly.

"I wouldn't know." Sato's lip twitched. "But a man who hides his face from others doesn't inspire a whole lot of trust."

Under the scarf, Sato saw the stranger's brow wrinkle in a smile.

"That's rich, considering that your leader was a masked man who lied to six thousand followers about who he really was."

Sato winced, and grimaced. But he looked away all the same. "Amon was a liar and a lunatic. He hijacked the cause of equality between benders and non-benders in order to satisfy his own desire for power. He played us all for fools, and throwing my lot in with him is one of my biggest regrets next to betraying Asami. I'm not about to be played again. So forgive me," he said as he pointed accusingly at his rescuer (kidnapper?), "if I don't exactly find you trustworthy."

The stranger sighed, lowering his head. "Trust is earned, I guess. Very well. You are a hunted man now, and I am a man who technically shouldn't exist. I suppose we should get to know each other."

Slowly, he began to unwind the red scarf. A tuft of brown hair was released as he unravelled the first loop.

"For the record," the stranger said, looking straight as Sato, "I hide my face for a reason."

"Why?" Sato inquired. _Does he have some sort of deformity? _"Because you think I will be afraid?"

"No." The man unwrapped the final loop. "Because I'm afraid you'd lose confidence."

The scarf fell from his neck.

Sato's eyes grew big. He leaned back into the upholstery of the back seat, even as the full shock of the revelation sent him reeling with a thousand questions that made no sense.

"_Prince Wu?_"

* * *

**Ten days ago**

**Republic City, near the Spirit Vine Reserve**

The last thing Prince Wu remembered was the wind in his face and the roar of 300-horsepower thundering under his seat as he raced down the boulevard.

_Can't believe I managed to sneak past everyone just like that, _he thought, grinning. _Glad to be out of house arrest._

He never saw the vine coming, whipping out from the window of a nearby abandoned building with the force of a striking snake.

_Crash._

He remembered flying through the air, his goggles dangling off his face as he let out a scream. As if in slow-motion, he watched as ten feet under him, the car smashed full-speed into half-collapsed wall and crumbled to pieces. Then he was yanked sideways.

"Ow!"

Prince Wu was terrified. Raw, bitter terror filled his mind as the vine dragged him through the air, tossing him around like a ragdoll. Then, suddenly, there was darkness.

Wu held his breath, not daring to move.

Then he felt something wet at his feet.

He looked down. Bright, green liquid was pouring down from somewhere, and he was already knee deep in it. Panicking, he thrashed around, only to have his arms bump against something soft and jelly-like.

Pressing his hands against the dark, Prince Wu felt only the rubbery surface of a newly-forming spirit pod, encasing him in a prison that was slowly filling up with slime.

_It's the lair of some creepy monster! _He thought wildly. _And it's going to dissolve me into juice and suck me up with a straw!_

"Help!" He screamed. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!"

His voice was choked out as the spirit fluid filled the entirety of the pod.

Prince Wu left this world.

And he opened his eyes.

He blinked. And looked around.

_Where am I?_

He saw trees, stretching overhead and around him. Then he looked up. The sky was a deep shade of purple, blazing with some strange energy that seemed to fill the air with a deep, sonorous pulse. Wu could hear it somehow, could feel it echoing in his bones. He didn't like it one bit.

He stumbled forward. His legs were shaky. He was still dressed in his driving clothes, and he was pretty sure that he was dreaming. But something was off. Something was wrong.

He heard a growl.

Wu turned his head. Slowly. Not daring to look, but seeing it anyway.

About ten feet away was a wolf. Only it wasn't like any wolf Wu could think of. Shiny, serrated scales covered its lean body rather than fur, and its powerful legs were muscular and clawed. On its face was a mask. Strange and contorted, like a wooden sculpture, with two slits for eyes and a gash where its mouth would have been.

He stared back.

Then the slits narrowed and the gash curved upside down.

_The mask __**is **__its face._

"Gah!"

Wu started running almost before he realised he was running. Flailing, stumbling over rocks, he fled. Behind, he heard the heavy breathing of the creature. The paws hit the ground like thunder, drumming away as it closed in on him. Wu already knew he was going to lose the race.

_I'm going to get eaten!_

But how was it going to eat through a slit in a wooden mask?

Then out of the corner of his eye, Prince Wu saw a blur move in. So fast, he barely noticed it closing the distance between him and the beast.

Wu whirled around.

It was a man. And he was fighting off the monster.

The wolf-thing snarled, then lunged. The man sidestepped the attack quickly, his brown robes whirling in the air, never breaking his serene posture. Calmly, precisely, he aimed a powerful kick at the creature's leg—_thud._

The wolf-creature buckled to the ground with a screech. Dodging the frantic scrabbling of its paws, the man took three unhurried steps towards the monster, without the slightest hint of fear. With the index finger of his right hand, he traced something on the creature's face, even as its body coiled and undulated.

Quick strokes, elegant and striking, like a dance. Then the strokes gleamed together as one, and Wu saw the character traced into the creature's mask.

_Ping. _Balance. Equality. Calm.

Instantly, the creature changed, its flesh transforming like liquid light even as Prince Wu stood idly, open-mouthed. The claws were gone. The scales peeled away, giving way to smooth, pale fur. And the creature's mask now showed a smile, carved into the wood. Rising to its feet, it shook from side to side like a shaggy dog, and gave the strange man a little bow.

The man bowed in return, his palms clasped together. "Go in peace."

The wolf-creature ambled off, thudding into the forest and out of sight.

Wu found his voice at last. "What—_what was that?_" he sputtered.

The man answered without turning around. "A Noh-Wolf, a spirit with two sides—a peaceful one, and a fierce one. Each one bears a _fu _on its mask that allows its peaceful side to flourish and its aggressive, savage side to remain silent. This one must have lost its _fu, _causing it to turn feral."

He turned around. "Like the world itself—the Noh-Wolf bears two faces, symbolising the balance between peace and strife. And, as now, oftentimes it takes the action of one to restore the balance between these two states."

Prince Wu only looked on, puzzled. Only now did he get a good look at the stranger. A ragged, grey beard framed his face, and long hair draped down his shoulders. His face was hard, cold. Wu thought that if an ancient master ever lived on top of a mountain like in the stories, his face would look something like this.

"Stranger." The bearded man stepped closer. "I sense that you are not of this world. The Spirit Wilds are dark and dangerous. What brings you here to this fearsome land?"

Wu scratched his head. "Um, I don't know. I think it was a—vine?"

"A spirit vine." The man seemed thoughtful. "Vines attacking humans and dragging them into the Spirit World—some great disturbance must be occurring at their Mother Tree."

"So, um," Wu stuttered, "can you get me back home?"

"I do not know, stranger. Much about the Spirit Wilds is unpredictable. One who meditates is free to travel to and from the Spirit World, but you are different. Your body is being held captive by the spirit vines—I do not know if you would be able to return to it, unless someone frees you from the outside."

"Oh no," Wu whimpered. "Oh no, oh no, oh no!"

"Peace." The man held up a hand. "Perhaps you may return to your body someday. Perhaps you will not. But it does not matter. The way you are—you won't survive a day in the Spirit Wilds, let alone live long enough to return to your physical self."

"So what do I do?" Prince Wu tore at his hair. "You saw that wolf-thing! I can't fight that! You're right, I won't last an _hour _in this place! And just who are you anyway?"

The bearded stranger smirked. "I am a traveller. Like you, my body is bound, in chains instead of vines. But my spirit travels free, and I roam the Spirit World, seeking new knowledge and challenges."

"Then take me with you! Let me come along!" Wu begged. "At least then I'll have a chance!"

"No, stranger." The man closed his eyes. "I cannot protect you always. I must return to the human world from time to time. My physical body needs nourishment—food, water, rest. And time passes differently here compared to the human world. I may return to the human world for only a day. But when I return—a year may have already passed for you."

Wu mewled in despair. "A year—a year! I'll be long dead by then!"

"Wait." The man scratched his chin. "Fear not, traveller. There may be hope yet."

Wu perked up. "Tell me. Tell me!" He clasped his hands together, pouting dramatically.

"I may not be able to protect you all the time. But I _can _make you capable of defending yourself in the Spirit Wilds." Wu felt the man's eyes scrutinise him up and down. "You are weak now, that is true. But in the Spirit World, one's spirit may grow to gain power and strength far beyond your normal limits."

"I can train you. I can teach you how to fight, and how to avoid a fight. I can teach you to master your senses and navigate the treacherous land of the Wilds. I can show you how to make your mind as potent a weapon as your body. With time—and time is something we have so much of here—we might make a warrior of you just yet. And _maybe,_" he paused, "you might survive until I return."

"Train me? You mean like Mako's kickboxing lessons? I'm—I'm not sure I'm ready for that sort of—"

"Then you will meet your end here. Simple." The man turned away.

"No, no! I mean, thank you so much, master! Train me, show me how to do those fancy moves and kick butt and all that! I need to survive, or I'll be wolf-chow!" Wu spurted, falling to his knees.

"Very well then. We will begin now, as all times are contained in the present. First—what is your name, stranger?" The bearded man beckoned Wu to rise.

"Um, I'm Wu. People call me Prince Wu. But that doesn't matter. Yeah, forget that," Wu stammered as he got to his feet.

"Well met, Wu." The stranger bowed.

"My name is _Zaheer_."

* * *

**This started out the way all my stories start out: as a writing exercise gone out of control. Truth be told, this fanfic is self-indulgent. I'm just going to say it; I took plenty of cues from both The Dark Knight movie trilogy and the TV series Arrow, and it shows. This is, clearly, completely, absolutely Alternate Universe, and while elements of later episodes will find their way into the tale, the core of it will still be based on the implausible premise that Prince Wu is now someone-something-else.  
**

**Reviews are very much welcome, please leave a note telling me what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2: Wu Down

**Watched the finale two days ago and I'm still feeling emotional. What a ride. Truly, what a ride. I'm torn between wanting more, more, more of comics or books or mini-series set in the Avatar universe, and a feeling of completion and satisfaction that DiMartino and Konietzko managed to wrap this up so beautifully. All I know is that Aang and Korra's adventures, which have formed such a big part of my childhood and now my early adulthood, will stay with me as one of the best stories I have had the pleasure of experiencing.**

**Meanwhile...back at the Batcave-sorry, I meant, Wu's place.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Wu Down**

* * *

_Click._

_Click click click._

One after the other, the lights came on, bathing the bare underground warehouse in a patchy fluorescent light that flickered erratically.

"Well this place has seen better days." Prince Wu surveyed the chamber with a critical eye. The basic concrete framework seemed to be sturdy enough, but the metal sheeting on the walls and ceiling were peeling off in places. A layer of dust coated every surface in the place.

"It's been three, four years since this place saw use," replied Hiroshi Sato, coughing into his handkerchief. Still clad in his prison clothes, he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Are those mech suits still functional?" Wu pointed at a nearby set of power armor.

Sato shrugged. "Could probably work with a fresh batch of capacitors. But I don't see how they'd be any use if—if you really want to go up against Kuvira." Sato still seemed stunned by the stupidity and audacity of the idea. "Her mech are far superior in terms of firepower, power capacity, and durability. Matter of fact, lots of her designs were based on mine. And her man, Bataar—he knows what he's doing, and he's buffed them up good. Not to mention they have the most important advantage—numbers."

"I detect some grudging respect."

"I don't have much of an ego. There are better and brighter minds than mine around. Varrick being one of them. Another one—" he hesitated "—Asami. My daughter—I would never have imagined my company growing to the heights that it had under her care."

Wu was still examining the mech suit. "Well, you're the genius I _do _have. So let's work with what we've got. What else do you have around here?"

"Old Equalist weaponry." Sato pulled open a nearby locker. "Some shock gloves, stun batons, smoke grenades. Standard fare. Still usable from the looks of it."

"So basically to electrify people? Stun them?" Wu walked over to the drawer. "Could be useful."

"Unless you can get within punching range of a well-trained Earthbender—not so much."

Wu winced. "Well, we'll have to think of something else to get around that problem. How about vehicles?"

Sato's eyes seemed to brighten. "Well," he said, smiling, "I _might _have a few old designs that may interest you."

* * *

"An underground garage?" Wu raised an eyebrow, looking around the enclosed area, illuminated by a skylight.

"We kept some of the rejected designs here. Vehicles that never made it into production. Such as this one."

Sato laid his hand on the motorcycle. Bigger than most standard models and painted in grey, its body was sleek and layered with sheets of plate metal. Wu noticed that the handlebars were protected by two curved, sloping shields that reached up to where the rider's shoulders would be.

"Based on a previous Equalist design, and fitted with modifications for vehicular combat and assymetric urban maneuvers, including cables and nitro boosters for short-range jumps."

Sato ran his hands down the cool metal surface. "We called it the Thunder. More powerful engine, twice the acceleration, and with retractable shields—" he rapped his knuckles on the sloping shields "—to protect the rider from projectiles such as metal blades from Republic City's police—or Kuvira's army."

Walking around the bike, Wu had to admit he was impressed. The design was sleek and streamlined, and bore no resemblance to the clunky civilian mopeds he was used to seeing. He remembered that he had a sports bike in his old palace garage. _If Kuvira hadn't already trashed the place to the ground, I would have liked to race both of these babies and see who's the fastest._

"So why didn't you Equalists make more of these?" Wu asked.

Sato made a dismissive gesture, with a hint of disappointment. "Far too expensive to produce. Every inch of this bike is made from a special platinum alloy that is resistant to Metalbending. It was created specifically as a counter to Republic City's ground forces."

Wu surveyed the control panel of the bike, marveling at the sleekness of its design. He noted the rail sockets on either side, most likely all-purpose ports for fitting a variety of equipment and weaponry for a multitude of scenarios. _Grappling hooks, light cannons, smoke canister launchers—really, anything small enough, and you could fit it on this bike._

Sato turned away from the bike. "Once Amon had control of the skies via airship, it just wasn't worth the cost to produce more Thunders. You see the three of them here? That's all that's left."

Turning around, Wu put a hand on Sato's shoulder. "You mentioned that you had blueprints of some newer equipment that you weren't able to build. Some sort of advanced combat suit, and a flying vehicle more versatile than a biplane."

Sato rolled his eyes, sighing dejectedly as he tugged at the sleeves of his old prison shirt. "Those designs are worthless. The amount of raw materials, manpower and expertise required to produce them—they might as well be castles in the sky."

Wu squared his jaw thoughtfully.

"If I provided the materials and manpower," he began cautiously, "can you manufacture those designs from your blueprints?"

Sato blinked, staring back blankly. "Y—yes, I suppose so. But the amount of money and—"

"I'm the prince of the Earth Kingdom," Wu said simply, and he couldn't help but sound smug. "Right now, I have access to half a billion yuan in a personal trust."

"Still, we need hundreds of work-hours just to manufacture the basic components!" Sato protested. "Specialist labour, production facilities—far too much work for just two people!"

"I know. But let's say I supply you with the resources you need. Can you produce them?"

Sato nodded cautiously. "Well—if you could—I suppose _I _could."

"Good." Wu squeezed Sato's shoulder reassuringly. "Leave the rest to me."

"Why are you doing this?" Sato's voice was sincerely bewildered. Just a day ago, he was serving one of a thousand days of a long prison sentence. Now he was on the run, and an accomplice to a scheme too mad to succeed. He was helping a deposed monarch to overthrow the single most powerful person in the known world apart from perhaps the Avatar confusion was all too understandable.

Wu gestured towards the Thunder. "Kuvira commands an army with numbers and technology far superior to anything the Republic has ever seen. If I'm going to fight her, I need to even the odds. I need to gain an edge—in tactics and in technology—and for that, I need you to make me some new weapons."

"That's not what I meant." Sato shook his head slowly. "I mean—why are you doing all of this? Overthrowing the Great Uniter? Mounting a one-man vigilante campaign?" He blurted. "You—I read about you, you once cried in the middle of a press conference because a heckler yelled at you from the crowd! You came to the hospital in a stretcher because of a 'severe injury' before the doctor found out that the 'blood' on you was grapefruit juice! You were humiliated by Kuvira in front of a national audience, and you slunk away with your tail between your legs, and went to the shopping mall on top of us—" Sato pointed above "—to mope and make a fool of yourself like a little child!"

Wu raised an eyebrow.

"I mean," Sato took a deep breath, and continued, "_what happened to you? _Now you're breaking into prisons and discussing combat tactics like you've been doing this all your life! I heard about you being missing and being found in a spirit pod. What—what happened to you in there? In that _other _world?"

He looked into Wu's eyes. "Are—are you _even _Prince Wu?"

Wu locked eyes with Sato for a full minute. All that either could hear was the other breathing. Then, slowly, Wu stepped back.

"You know that boy you were talking about? That weak thing who couldn't stand up for himself, who only cared about the ladies, who never gave a rat's behind about his kingdom and those in it?" Wu asked.

He clenched his fist.

"_He died in the Spirit World_."

* * *

**Ten days ago**

**The Spirit Wilds**

"_You_." Wu's eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back, staring dumbly at Zaheer.

"You killed my great-aunt," he mumbled.

"Your—" Zaheer's own face registered blunt surprise. Then he regained his composure.

"I should have known your name was familiar. _Prince _Wu. Next in line to a throne that has long overstayed its welcome." Zaheer strode in a half-circle around Wu, making the young prince crane his neck to maintain his gaze.

Zaheer closed his eyes, smiling briefly. "A strange thing indeed is fate, to bring us together in the most unlikely of places—the great-grandnephew, face-to-face with the killer of his matriarch."

Wu backed away a few more steps, never taking his eyes off Zaheer.

"So what will you do now?" Zaheer raised an eyebrow. "Now that you've found out that the man you _begged _to be your mentor—is your sworn enemy?"

And Wu did something neither man expected.

He charged.

"_Argh!_" Screaming shrilly, the prince collided painfully with Zaheer, his head slamming into the older man's elbows. Dimly, he felt himself being pushed aside, and he tumbled off balance onto the hard ground.

"Anger. Rage." Zaheer smirked. "I would never have expected such _raw _emotion from a boy raised in luxury and excess."

Wu clambered to his feet unsteadily. _Mako's training, _he remembered, and lowered himself into a boxer's stance. His fists came up, his elbows curved, and he desperately tried to keep his gaze fixed on Zaheer even as his hands shook like bells in the wind. _I have no chance against him. No chance._

_What am I going to do?_

"What did you know then, about the city of Ba Sing Se under the reign of the Empress?" Zaheer circled Wu with slow, even steps. "Did you hear how its citizens struggled to feed themselves, even as she dined in wealth and splendor? Did you know how they suffered as what little they had was taken from them to fill her coffers? Or were you too busy enjoying yourself and living the life of a prince, blissfully unaware of the true state of _your kingdom_?"

"Your great-aunt's death was necessary," Zaheer said coolly as he swung his arms behind his back, unconcerned. "I did not kill an empress. _I freed a nation._"

"You are a murderer," Wu stammered. "A—a monster."

"Kill one person and you are a monster—that's what they say." Zaheer shook his sleeves down over his hands. "Yet if you kill hundreds, thousands—people remember you very differently. How many people died in Hou Ting's prison camps, how many starved as her taxes bled the land dry? Can these deaths be counted? Should they not be mourned?"

He glared at Wu with scorn. "Or is her death special simply because she is an _empress_?"

"She," Wu hissed, "was _family._"

"The drive for revenge is powerful. And here I am." Zaheer opened his arms. "Your chance has come. Avenge your _family._"

The older man dropped into his own stance, and Wu was suddenly overcome with the distinct feeling that he was severely outclassed. Zaheer's very frame radiated raw strength and agility, and his body coiled up like a snake preparing to strike. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer to Wu, his curved fists raised above his head like the stinger of a scorpion.

With no choice, stupidly, blindly—Wu struck. Hurled a punch right at Zaheer's face, one that he regretted as soon as he spotted the glimmer of satisfaction in the older man's eye. The blow hit nothing but wind as Zaheer skirted the blow—then, a blur of movement—and _pain. _Wu felt the breath explode from his nose as his stomach caved inwards. He stumbled.

Zaheer withdrew his fist. "Going straight for the face—ambitious, but misguided, especially if your enemy is taller and stronger than you are." He readjusted his stance. "Your blow will be weak, poorly aimed, and ultimately costly."

Wu leapt forward clumsily, aiming another punch at Zaheer. This time, the older man didn't even budge. With lightning fast precision, he smacked Wu's arm aside even as his foot swung in a clean arc that cut Wu's footing from under him.

"Don't stumble into a fight like a drunken monkey!" Zaheer growled. "Your enemy has many weak points. His fingers, his toes, his eyes, his beard. Use them! Do not strike blindly at his face simply because it is all that you see!"

Wu coughed, sputtering breathlessly as he struggled to get back up.

"You are angry. And you are filled with hate." Zaheer stepped closer. "And it gives you strength. It fills your mind and your body. It pounds through your blood like the rhythm of a war drum." He raised a finger, mockingly, almost like an instructor facing a student. "_But do not allow it to blind you._"

The young prince managed to struggle onto all fours.

_This is not one of Mako's training sessions. Because by now, I would have already screamed 'Wu down!'_

_Why am I getting up again?_

Wu struggled to his feet, breathing heavily. Glaring at Zaheer hotly, his hair unkempt and caked with dirt, he raised his fists again.

_I have never felt this angry._

"When was the last time you stood up for yourself?" Zaheer closed the distance, and struck Wu quickly in the chest. Reeling from the shock, Wu stumbled backwards. But his guard was still up.

"When did you last choose to stand and fight, rather than flee to the safety of your comfort and luxury?"

Zaheer's palm strike went straight towards Wu's face. But somehow, the prince raised his arms in time. The blow connected painfully against his fingers. But it also made Zaheer draw back.

"Yet here you are. Defiant, angry, and filled with purpose. Your rage gives you focus, it drives out your fear. Even now, you are becoming something more than yourself. You are finding strength you never thought you had, discovering a drive that you thought only existed in other people."

_Mako, I wasn't raised by a pack of cops in the woods! _His mind drifted back. Mako's face appeared in his mind seamlessly, his expression disdainful and slightly annoyed. The stalwart policeman, taller, stronger, probably more handsome. The man who could do things Wu couldn't.

"No more Avatar, no more legions of guards, no more friends to protect you here." Zaheer stepped closer. "Now, you fight for yourself, and yourself alone."

He struck fast, so fast that Wu barely had time to blink before he felt the air leave his lungs. Zaheer's fingers closed over Wu's throat like a vise. Weak, breathless and near collapse, Wu felt himself being pulled closer.

"But beneath the anger—I sense something else. A burning passion that keeps you fighting." Wu's vision began to darken as Zaheer's face loomed over his own.

"What is it?" whispered Zaheer. "What do you fight for, Prince Wu?"

The prince gasped for air, sputtering even as Zaheer's grip tightened mercilessly.

He answered honestly.

"I don't—know—who I am."

Then sheer, instantaneous relief, flooding his lungs like life-giving energy, and the feeling of the ground beneath him and Zaheer's bare feet inches from his face.

"You are the prince of the Earth Kingdom," Zaheer said quizzically. "That's who you've always been."

"No." Wu coughed and sputtered as he struggled to his feet. "That's who I always thought I was. That's what all those courtiers and maids have been telling me since I was a boy. That I was special, that I was a prince, that I _deserved _to enjoy myself and live life to the fullest."

"But I'm _nobody._" Wu struck the ground with his fist. "Just some helpless guy that Mako has to protect all the time. I get in trouble, and the Avatar comes and bails me out. I tell myself that she's into me, that I'm a ladies' man."

He shook his head. "I can't even fool _myself_. She's not even thinking of me. Nobody is. I'm invisible. I am nothing but a liability. Team Avatar spends, like, half the day worrying about whether I'll be caught or injured or killed, and they hope that I just stay out of trouble. That's all I am. An escort mission!" He spat.

"I can't protect my people. I can't fight Kuvira. All I can do is stay in that house with people who look at me like I'm a divine ruler, and expect me to play the part." Wu struggled into a sitting position. Zaheer was no longer in a combat stance; he had withdrawn his fists, and was listening with rapt attention.

"But I can't. Because I'm no _prince_, and I'm no future king. I'm just a weak, stupid boy who was born into a very rich family, and who can't do anything on his own. And now that the people around me are in danger—I can't do anything." Tears welled up in Wu's eyes as he faced Zaheer, no longer with any trace of fear. "That's why I'm not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of you killing me. Because you know as well as I do—"

He turned away.

"—that I wouldn't be worth the energy."

Wu slumped, breathing heavily. His hairstyle was ruined, his clothes damp. Part of his mind wondered how he could be dirty and disheveled if he was in the Spirit World, far away from his physical body. How could the dirt and water of the Spirit World stick to him?

_Better explanation. I'm a spirit here, right? So this is my spirit. This is how I really look like. Dirty, soggy, useless._

"That's why I'm fighting you, even though I look completely _pathetic_." He glared defiantly at Zaheer. "Because I want—I _need_—to feel something other than _useless_."

Wu saw a flicker of movement, and screwed up his eyes in anticipation of the blow.

Instead, he saw an outstretched hand.

"Get up," Zaheer said quietly.

Wu took his hand, and was pulled up roughly to his feet.

Wu stared in shock as he realized that his great-aunt's killer was _smiling._

"So," Zaheer said, "I see you for what you truly are."

"A coward." Wu turned his gaze away.

"No." Zaheer laid his hand on the young prince's shoulder, causing him to start. "A _warrior_."

Wu blinked in confusion, his head tilted to one side. "All this spirit stuff must be making you dizzy. I'm a wimp. I just told you that I'm soft and I can't do anything."

"Indeed." Zaheer nodded. "But you have bared your soul to me, and I see the deepest drive within you—a dissatisfaction with who you are, and a passion to become someone—something—else. True, you have masked it by wallowing in the wealth and excess that is part of your heritage. But it beats within you still. Here, in the Spirit Wilds, far from Republic City and Ba Sing Se and all your money and comfort and fame—you may have the chance to let it run free. To let your inner drive emerge."

"I have looked into the eyes of many before you," Zaheer continued, still smiling, "and the desire to change and to better oneself—it is rarer than you think. Ghazan and Ming Hua, they were formidable and powerful benders on their own right, but they never sought to stray from the roles they had chosen for themselves; they remained outcasts and bandits even after we took an entire city, and they desired to stay that way till they finally fell. Only P'Li saw the potential for the Red Lotus to become something more, and change the course of the world for the better."

He closed his eyes briefly as a fleeting expression of grief crossed his face. "And only I saw what was possible for one to become—to enter the void, to become wind."

"Strength can be a hindrance. Power can be a crutch. Avatar Korra let herself be bound by her role as the Avatar, never straying from the confines of her duty—and when it was taken from her, she was broken and lost. Perhaps even your friend Mako is not as strong as he appears. Perhaps he only appears strong because he has always stayed the same—always playing the same role in the team, always being the one person doing the one fixed thing, like a cog in a machine, turning and turning dutifully over and over."

"But you," he pointed at Wu, "you don't belong. You don't fit in a team, you aren't part of a group of friends. You're invisible and you've always been so, and right now, nothing remains of the life you used to lead. You are broken, lost, confused, and humbled. But it is here, when you are at your lowest point—"

Zaheer clenched his fist.

"—that you are open to the _greatest change_."

Zaheer's brow narrowed. "It's your choice. You can cling to your past, or you can abandon everything you have ever known in pursuit of strength you have never imagined. And I can teach you how. What do you say?"

Wu closed his eyes, breathing deeply. So much was going on, so much didn't make sense. But every one of Zaheer's words reverberated off his heart like a gong. And the blazing fire within him—the heat that had arisen in the spur of combat—was rising.

_Become something more._

He opened his eyes, and stared straight at Zaheer's.

"Teach me," he exhaled finally.

Zaheer smiled.

* * *

**Present day**

**The Shining Lotus Hotel, downtown Republic City**

**10.30 pm**

The hotel manager jerked up from his nap as the chimes tinkled, indicating that a customer had just walked through the doors. As best as he could, he stood upright, quickly shoving the paperback romance novel under the reception desk. Ahead, the garish fluorescent light flickered on the poorly-made metal chandelier.

"Welcome to the Shining Lotus Hotel, how may I—" he began, then paused as his eyes lit up in recognition. "Why, it's Prince Wu! It's an honour to have you here, Your Highness!" He bowed deeply with a wide smile, while silently panicking—the previous set of rooms hadn't yet been cleaned. _What's the prince of the Earth Kingdom doing here this time of night?_

The young prince bowed in return, meeting his smile with a tentative grin of his own. "And a pleasure to meet you too, sir."

"Can I interest you in a room tonight? We are one of the best hotels this side of—"

"Thank you," the prince halted his sales pitch with a raised palm, "but actually I was wondering if I could make a phone call. I'd like to pay for it."

The manager hesitated, clearly flustered. "A—a phone call?"

"Yes. I can't call on a normal telephone, you understand—just need to be discreet. I was hoping you'd let me use the front desk phone."

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Truth be told—I've got this girl, you know, and I promised her I'd call. But I've got this _other _girl living with me and—well, let's say I can't really use the phone at home. She'll know."

The manager's eyes widened, then he coughed nervously. "Of—of course, Your Highness. Here, have the front desk phone, I'll be out back to give you some privacy—" he bowed, and excused himself.

_The prince of the Earth Kingdom, playing the love game with two girls at the same time! _It was almost scandalous. The manager scratched his chin thoughtfully as he took the chance to use the bathroom. Something interesting to add to the gossip at the Mahjong game tomorrow night.

Prince Wu waited until the footsteps had subsided, then picked up the receiver and dialed the number.

"Mr. Wei? This is Prince Wu. Yes, I apologise for the late hour, and no, everything is fine." His eyes darted across the window near the front door, scanning for any intrusions before proceeding. Reaching into his coat pocket, he retrieved a folded piece of paper. "I'd like to make a transaction via the trust."

Quickly, he outlined the details of the transaction. He could hear his broker's concern and panic loud and clear. "No, no, this is not an impulse purchase. I'm just acting on insider information. Just get the paperwork done, and we'll discuss this in person. But only after the stocks are mine."

Per protocol, he provided the confidential information that would authorize the purchase. Password and unique number code.

"Yes, that would be all. And please, don't get too worried. Good night now, Mr. Wei, and thank you for your time and patience." He replaced the receiver.

Mr. Wei had handled Prince Wu's expenditure since the day that he had become next in line to the throne. All his splurges on fast cars and luxurious holidays—Mr. Wei had handled via the trust fund. But this was the first time Wu had dabbled in the stock market and real estate. It was necessary to soothe the broker's well-founded concerns—not least because Wu needed the whole thing to be discreet.

_Well, at least until tomorrow_, Wu mused dryly. If Wei was as good as Wu knew him to be, the transaction would already be complete tomorrow, with the ink barely dry on the paperwork.

By ten in the morning, when the stock market opened, Prince Wu would own fifteen percent of Future Industries' public shares, as well as full control and ownership of Yan Na Wei Manufacturing, a sister corporation.

He placed a twenty yuan note under the telephone and strode out the door.

Sato was getting his materials and manpower, one way or another.

_Now let's see if he can make use of them._

* * *

Grandma Yin bit her fingernail, worried. Wu had been out for almost five hours, and the tea she brewed had long since turned cold. Asami was away on a late-night meeting with that other science man—Varrick, she remembered—and Korra was spending the night on Air Temple Island.

_Should I ring them up? _She fretted. The thought of her dear prince out there in the big, wide city was almost too much to bear.

Then—

"Grandma Yin!" Wu called cheerily.

She spun around, beaming. "Oh, my dear prince. You're home! Where were you? I was so worried!"

"Don't worry about it, grandma," he said laughingly, pushing open the front door. "I met this really smart girl in a restaurant downtown, and we talked and talked for hours!"

"Oh, you, always sweeping some poor girl off her feet." Yin smiled, the kindly wrinkles around her eyes furrowing. "Now, don't you be breaking too many hearts now; girls don't like to be played around with. Mako's grandfather learned that lesson one time too many!" She wagged her finger theatrically, though still smiling.

"I'm heading to bed, grandma." Wu yawned, stretching his arms dramatically. "Republic City's nightlife can _really _take a lot out of you."

"Of course, my dear. Would you like some tea first? I can brew a fresh pot!"

"It's alright grandma, thank you. See you tomorrow!"

Grandma Yin smiled meekly. She locked the front door and was getting ready to head upstairs when she spotted her red shawl, draped neatly over the back of a chair in the foyer.

Yin paused, puzzled.

"I'm sure I didn't leave it here," she mumbled, scratching her head. "Maybe I forgot."

She picked it up, sighed, and shuffled upstairs.

"Must be a part of getting old."

* * *

Wu reached his room. The bed beckoned, and the moonlight irritated his bleary eyes. He could hardly believe it himself. In the past three hours, he had orchestrated a prison break and revived the Equalist movement, even if it was with just one person.

And he was bone-dead, stone cold, utterly and completely exhausted.

_I forgot. _Wu thought, frustrated. _All that strength training and physical exercise doesn't carry over into the human world._

Fighting sleep, he took another good hard look as his body. His arms were skinny and slender like the legs of a hawk-chicken. His body looked like it still hadn't hit puberty. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure he was even _done _with puberty.

_Come on now, all that intense combat training in the Spirit World—and not even a muscle pops in my __**real **__body?_

Wu sighed. It was as if he had been pushed back to the starting line. He had to begin all over again.

He braced himself under the window frame, and reached over head. His fingers closed over the wooden beam.

He pulled. His muscles strained. His shoulders ached, and he felt fire running down his arms. His forehead barely touched the top of the window.

_One._

If he was going to pull off any more stunts like what he did today, he would need to know his physical limits. No better time to test them than now—sleep-deprived, cranky, and very exhausted. Doing pull-ups in the moonlight. What a crazy day. Might as well roll with it.

_Two._

The weakness was foreign, alien. He felt like he had been forced back into the body of a child. His arms screamed from underuse, his fingers ran slick with sweat.

_Three._

He could feel the 'shakes' coming. The tingling, involuntary trembling of the muscles that indicated imminent failure.

_Fo—_

_Crack._

The beam split in two, and Prince Wu tumbled to the ground, off-balance. The shock lasted only a moment before his reflexes kicked in and he rolled over his shoulder, dissipating the momentum.

"What the—"

He rose to his feet, exhausted and even angrier. Quickly, he scooped up the wooden pieces and dumped them under the bed. _Please, please let Auntie Yin already be asleep…_

Wu massaged his shoulders. The pain was throbbing now, all over his torso. The bed beckoned. Rest, and the night, and sweet, sweet slumber.

But he said _no_.

_Strength is in the mind, _Zaheer had taught him. _Train your mind, and your body will follow._

His body may be the weak frame of a young prince unused to any hardship whatsoever. But his mind was that of a hardened warrior who had survived ten years in the Spirit Wilds and had faced down the worst horrors the Spirit World could offer.

If his body was weak, he would train and train until it was as strong as his mind.

_Remember what you're fighting for._

Wu got down on all fours, straightened his legs, braced his arms, and lowered his chest to the hardwood floor.

_Weakness must be purged from the body._

Shakily, he pushed himself up.

_One._

* * *

**Sometime past midnight**

**Republic City Square**

Three trucks. One armored vehicle. All four bearing the Republic City police insignia. Amidst the controlled chaos of the citywide lockdown, they were almost invisible.

In the shadow of the armored tank stood a man. Heavy-set, stern, his hair cropped short to military standards, he watched the empty street ahead with hands folded behind his back and a keen roving eye fixed ahead.

"Major Tu. We're all set." The soldier poked his head out from the back of the nearby truck.

The major nodded, never taking his eyes of the street.

"There's a reason why the Great Uniter will win this war, soldier," he murmured, half to himself. "It's because she understands that in any battle, the enemy's _morale _is just as important as the strength of his army."

He patted the exterior of the tank, running his palm over its cool metal surface. On the outside, it looked no different than a standard light assault vehicle fielded by Republic City. But its interior concealed a powerful weapon, smuggled into the city for the very purpose of sowing havoc. Even from the outside, Major Tu could almost hear the hum of the energy cells, beating steadily within the tank like a burning metal heart.

"We may be expendable, my fellow comrades," he said, turning to the rest of the troops in the truck. "But make no mistake. What we do will sow panic and fear into the people of Republic City, from the lowest citizens all the way to its cowardly president. What we accomplish tomorrow will be worth the work of a thousand soldiers."

Spitting into the ground, Major Tu grasped the rails on the side of the tank and hauled himself up. The turret hatch sprang open as he activated the controls. As the burly officer lowered himself into the armored vehicle, he turned to his soldiers with a final smile and salute.

"Long live the Great Uniter."

* * *

**All reviews are welcome. Please tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3: Zero Sum Game

**Disclaimer: I don't own a cat. I don't know why that's relevant.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Zero Sum Game**

* * *

**Republic City**

**President Raiko's Office**

"The borders are secure and troops are guarding the rail lines into the city." President Raiko rested his arm on the desk, his expression stern. He looked briefly at Tenzin, who matched his gaze with equal firmness.

He turned his attention to Varrick and Asami, who were looking jumpy and reserved respectively. "So, what have you two geniuses come up with to fend off Kuvira?"

Carefully, Asami retrieved a schematic sheet and unfolded it—then Varrick slapped it vigorously.

"It's a _flying mecha suit!_" Varrick exclaimed, gesticulating wildly as Asami glared at him crossly. "Asami and I got the idea from watching dragonfly-hummingbirds. You can take off straight up, fly in any direction—"

"Where does the spirit ray come out?" Raiko interjected.

Varrick's smile was replaced with a solid frown as Korra and Mako both faced Raiko apprehensively. From the corner of the room, Wu could sense the shift in the atmosphere.

"It doesn't _have _a spirit ray." Varrick raised a finger. "I'm telling you what I told Kuvira: that technology should _not _be used!"

Raiko rose to his feet suddenly, slamming his palms down on the desk. Wu crossed his arms—_here it comes._

"It's already being used—by Kuvira!" He exclaimed. "I need spirit vine weapons and I need them _now_!"

"No!" Korra replied firmly. "It was Kuvira's harvesting of the vines in the swamp that caused the Republic City vines to go crazy and grab all those people."

Raiko cocked his head in irritation. "You're supposed to be the bridge between the two worlds. Why can't _you _harvest the vines?"

"I won't do that," Korra responded, but her tone had softened. "But maybe since the spirits love Republic City so much, I can convince them to help us defend it somehow."

Behind them, invisible (and insignificant) to everyone, Wu began to think fast.

_If what Varrick says is true, Kuvira's weapon is a game-changer. It's no longer going to be a war between two sides. It's going to be mutually-assured destruction._

Wu thought back to the technology recovered from Sato's old safehouse. Useful tech, and with some modifications, he could soon develop weaponry superior to Kuvira's. But the one fact remained. If Kuvira ever reached Republic City, no matter the outcome of the conflict—

_The death toll will be enormous._

Wu stepped forward. _Idiot face on. Don't forget. You're playing a part here._

Rudely (and deliberately), he pushed Varrick and Korra aside. Korra's well-toned arms offered a lot more resistance, and the glare she gave him communicated the same message.

"Okay, so maybe while the weapon geniuses and the spirit bridge are getting ready for battle," he said, waving his hands dramatically, "maybe we should be evacuating the ordinary citizens so if Kuvira attacks, they won't be hurt!"

He could sense their surprise, and caught Korra's eyes open in amazement from the corner of his eye.

"That's—" Raiko paused, taken aback, "—actually a good idea." He pointed at Wu. "Prince Wu, you work with the police to coordinate getting people out of the city."

Wu smiled. Inwardly, he thrilled with satisfaction. _Less collateral damage._

"Now everyone get to it." Raiko ended the meeting with a curt nod. "And I want daily updates."

* * *

Outside the council chamber, Mako turned to face Wu. "Nice job in there. I'm proud of you," he said, smiling. "You're starting to act like the kind of king I'd like to work for."

Wu smiled nervously. _Okay, as much as I'd like to take credit for this, please—you'll still need to think I'm an idiot. I can't draw too much attention to the fact that something is different about me._

"Thanks," Wu replied smugly. "And if Korra buys this whole 'man of the people' thing…"

He winked.

"I might still get to date her," he whispered conspiratorially.

Mako's face fell. "You always have to ruin it."

_Yes, Mako, I'm afraid I do._

"What? Come on! Why do you think guys do anything great? To pick up girls. Every work of art, every song, every city evacuation, all for the ladies!" Wu waved theatrically as he strode off after Asami, leaving Mako speechless in disbelief.

_Okay, that's Mako taken care of._

_Now._

_That dragonfly mech._

In the day following Sato's breakout from prison, he and Wu had spent hours poring over the scant information about Kuvira's standing forces. Wu tracked down the manufacturing firms that were annexed by Kuvira during her rise to power, and managed to acquire old copies of the schematics. These were submitted to Sato's critical eye.

"_These designs are a lot less elegant than I would have expected them to be," Sato had said, as he studied the schematics of Kuvira's mech. "It looks like Kuvira ended up trading off sleekness and versatility in order to make mass production easier._

"_Which would make sense," Wu had put in. "The more complicated something is, the harder it is to mass-produce. She probably figured that she'll substitute the mechs' limitations with strength of numbers."_

Ahead, Varrick and Asami were engaged in conversation, neither of them noticing Wu approach.

"_So if we're going to make something that can take on Kuvira's mech in combat," Sato had observed, "we're going to need two factors. Speed, and agility. You need to outmanoeuvre them, because if you get pinned down, you won't stand a chance against their numbers."_

"Hey! Asami, Varrick!" Wu greeted cheerily.

Both of them turned to face him, mildly surprised. Asami's expression was one of thinly-disguised annoyance. "Oh, hey Wu. Mind if we catch up later? Varrick and I are in the middle of discussing modifications to our design."

"It's the wings!" Varrick exclaimed, flapping his hands about. "Key structural weakness! One good hit, and the mecha will go down for good—boom!" He deflated his cheeks. "We can't have that."

"Actually I was wondering if I could look at the design. You know, just have a peek." Wu grinned, wagging his eyebrows at Asami suggestively.

Asami pouted. "What for?"

Wu closed his eyes smugly, putting his hands behind his head. "Actually, once this whole 'world war' thing blows over," he wagged his fingers to accentuate the parenthesis, "I'd like to buy a whole dozen of them. Can you imagine? Flying all around Republic City in my own personal mech! The ladies will go absolutely _crazy!_" He pumped his fists while mumbling incoherently.

"So, naturally," Wu straightened up abruptly, "I'd like to see what I'm buying first. Smart consumer, you know."

Asami and Varrick glanced at each other, then at the folded schematic, then at Wu.

"Well, the revenue couldn't hurt," Varrick commented flatly.

Sighing, Asami handed it over to the prince. "Make it fast. I'll have to take it back."

"All _right!_" Wu snatched the blueprint from her hand eagerly, and quickly walked over to a balustrade to straighten it out.

As the two inventors continued talking, Wu dropped the act. His eyes scanned the schematics keenly.

_Impressive._

Asami and Varrick couldn't have had more than a few days at most. And yet here they were—with a fully-developed schematic for a brand new, unprecedented line of mechanical suits that in all likelihood would be superior to those in Kuvira's army.

There was a reason that Sato had called Asami his greatest creation. _She's probably one of the brightest minds in the world, _Wu mused, and his respect for her rose.

Quickly, Wu reached for his brooch, and pushed the minuscule button hidden in the back of the pin.

_Click._

Done. He folded the blueprint back up.

Asami was still talking to Varrick when she felt something being pressed into her hand.

"Thanks!" Wu called out cheerily, strutting away down the corridor. "We'll be in touch!"

Asami scowled as she looked at the crumpled blueprint, folded the wrong way around.

"You know, if _he's _going to be the next ruler of the Earth Kingdom," Varrick commented dryly, "Kuvira might not be the worst after all."

Asami was about to reply when an aide ran down the hallway, making a beeline for her.

"Miss Sato! A telegram from company headquarters!" The young lady said breathlessly. "Fifteen percent of Future Industries' public shares have just been bought up all at once, together with Yan Na Wei Manufacturing!"

Varrick's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets. "That's—that's _ten million yuan_! We're _ten million richer!_" He clasped at his chest.

Asami bit her lip. "Who was the buyer?"

"Prince Wu."

Both Varrick and Asami looked at each other, faces blank in shock.

* * *

The rollers squealed hotly as the warm, fresh photograph rolled off the printer, smelling of hot ink and paper.

Wu snatched the printout and marched over to the table. "Here we are. I printed the schematic straight from the photo I took with the hidden camera."

Sato paused from his breakfast and put down his tea. His eyes widened. "Impressive."

"A flying mechanical suit, capable of moving in any direction and taking off vertically without a runway." Wu ran his finger across the photograph of the blueprint.

Sato nodded vigorously, stroking his beard. "Impressive. Instead of having a propeller to generate lift—the wings move along an axis almost similar to an _actual _dragonfly-hummingbird. Asami and Varrick must have taken their cues from nature. This mech would be able to change direction in an instant—something which no biplane can ever do."

"Looks like it's designed to be operated by two people." Wu pointed at the cockpit. "One pilot, one navigator who probably would also control the mechanical arms."

"Yes," Sato murmured, sipping his tea. "A machine this complex can't be operated by just one person."

_One person._

Wu paused.

Was there some way to change that?

"Sato," Wu began slowly, "let's say we strip away everything from this suit except the parts that actually do the flying. Could we make the flight system fit on, say, a normal combat suit? For one person to wear?"

Sato's eyes widened. "The design would need to be _heavily _modified, but yes, technically this technology could be used to make a flying _suit _as well as a flying mecha." He frowned, then continued. "But there's still the problem of structural stability. Also, a machine of this size needs a massive power source. If we're going to make it fit on a suit that a normal person could wear, then the flying tech will also need to be shrunk down—otherwise we won't have enough power to fly it."

Wu nodded. "Could you do that, then? Miniaturise the basic design, modify it to work on, say, one of the Equalist combat suits?"

Sato squinted at Wu. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking of making myself _fly_," Wu answered plainly. "I need the aerial advantage against Kuvira's ground troops, and I need to do it without another person strapped to my back."

The old inventor exhaled, then rubbed his palm on his forehead wearily.

"Sometimes, I think that just _maybe _you're not completely crazy," he muttered, "and then—something like this comes up."

Wu smirked. "Stick around. I'm full of bad ideas."

"Look, even if I _could _design a suit like that," Sato protested, "we still haven't solved the problem of manpower and materials!"

"You haven't." Wu said calmly, retrieving the rolled-up copy of the daily paper from under his arm. "_I have._"

He pushed the newspaper over to Sato. The old man's lips moved silently as he read the headlines. Wu could almost tell the exact moment when it all sunk in, when Sato's eyelids peeled back in frank shock.

"By now, I own a total of five factories, including two specializing in rare earth metals," Wu said calmly, as Sato's hands quivered, "and a workforce of _eighteen hundred_. All five factories are separate from one another, both in location and management, which means that whatever we need to build, we can build in pieces without arousing too much suspicion."

Sato's eyes darted wildly as he continued reading, his fingers gripping the newspaper tighter.

"By the way, I'm sorry that I haven't been a good host," Wu said, bowing. "You've only had a spare room to sleep in down here, and that just won't do. So I bought the whole floor of Little Ba Sing Se, right above us." He pointed upwards. "It is now being converted into a penthouse for your living quarters. I do have to beg for your patience, since the interior designers say it'll only be ready for you in two more days."

"P—penthouse?" Sato stammered.

"But anyway, since I also have a majority share in Future Industries' R&amp;D department," Wu continued, not responding, "it means I'll also be able to make use of their technical expertise for any modifications or upgrades should the need arise. All we need to do is put it nicely and let no one know that we're actually trying to take down an entire army with advanced technology."

Sato looked up at Wu, in a daze.

"Look, it's all very _technical_," Wu said dismissively, waving his hand, "but the important thing is that you have what you need. And, with that, I hope we can begin. I look forward to a long and fruitful partnership."

"Enjoy your breakfast." Wu gestured towards the fried dumplings as he strode away towards the exit. "And your newspaper. Check out the Sudoku puzzle on page thirty-five."

_This is bad news, _Wu mused as he boarded the service elevator.

_I'm beginning to act like the arrogant brat people think I am._

* * *

**1300 Hours**

**Republic City Police HQ**

The police station buzzed with activity. To one side, switchboard operators were making personal calls household by household, trying to persuade their residents to join the evacuation. To another, a team of Republic City police were preparing to move out, to secure the train lines in preparation of what would (hopefully) be the first batch of evacuees. In the middle of it all stood Prince Wu, proudly issuing orders and gesticulating wildly, completely in his element.

"Chop chop people! This city isn't going to evacuate itself!—Wait. No, of course it is. I mean, let's try to _help _this city evacuate itself!" He proclaimed cheerily, scribbling vehemently on a clipboard as an aide held it unsurely, glancing it him with askance.

Mako smiled as he watched the prince in action from his office window. _Maybe he's king material after all._

He checked his watch. And as if on cue, the door opened.

"Hey Mako," Asami said as she stepped in. "You wanted to see me? Is everything okay?"

Mako took a deep breath, and composed himself. "Asami, there's something that I need to tell you. I wanted to let you know in person, but I didn't want to trouble you with this information before you met with President Raiko."

"What information? What's going on?" Asami folded her arms worriedly.

"Two days ago, your father escaped from prison."

"_What_?" Asami's jaw dropped in shock. "How? He's being held in Republic City's most secure prison!"

"I know. We're still trying to figure out what happened. But we're sure he had help from the outside. Whoever broke him out, started a prison riot in order to cover his escape." Mako tried to keep his tone level even as he saw the shock and betrayal flit over Asami's face.

"Right now, we're still trying to track him down. But with most of our force busy securing the borders and handling the evacuation, we don't really have a lot of manpower to spare." His face fell as he delivered the real bad news. "Asami, I don't know if we might find your father."

The young Sato heiress clenched her fists tightly, as tears pooled in her eyes. Lips trembling, she turned away from Mako. "I wanted to trust him. He told me he changed, that he was a different man and that he loved me. And I _believed _him. Now it turns out that all this while, he might have been planning an escape." She spat bitterly, "He lied to me. Like he always did."

Mako rested his hand tentatively on her shoulder, his expression one of concern. "Asami, I'm really sorry. I know things between you two were complicated. But I promise, I'll do everything I can with the resources I still have left—and we'll find your father." He tried a grim smile of confidence. "And when we do, we'll make him answer for what he's done."

Asami nodded, her own expression severe.

The door exploded open as an officer appeared, sweating and out of breath.

"What's going on?" Mako demanded.

"Chief, you're not going to like this," the man wheezed. "We have a hostage situation."

"What? Where?" The acting chief was already on his feet, grabbing his badge and radio. He motioned apologetically to Asami, who nodded understandingly. Mako strode briskly out of his office, followed closely by the officer.

"Near the old Cabbage Corp building. Sixteen Earthbenders. They have thirty-two Cabbage Corp employees inside the building, and they have it locked down. Our guys have formed a perimeter twenty feet from the entrance. And chief, you're not going to like this." The officer faced Mako. "Based on the way they fought, we think they might be Kuvira's soldiers."

Mako frowned. "She's already started attacking. But terrorism doesn't seem like her style. Have they issued any demands?"

"No. Matter of fact, they haven't talked to us at all. One of our guys tried approaching them to offer a radio for them to discuss terms. They sent him back with a wall of solid rock. Nobody's going near the building."

Mako's heart was racing. _If this is Kuvira we're talking about, there's no telling how bad things can get. For all we know, she might not intend on letting anyone leave the building alive—her soldiers or otherwise._

"Alright." He exhaled. "You did good. Get the squad car and let's move out. And put out an all-points bulletin to all units: put the city on lockdown."

The officer nodded, and saluted sharply. "Sir."

The pair hurried out of the office with not a backward glance. Around the station, the mood changed to one of urgency as officers rushed between telephones and lockers, preparing to coordinate a response to the newly-developing hostage situation. The switchboard operators almost immediately turned their priorities away from making house calls, and towards directing police units towards the Cabbage Corp building.

In the midst of the chaos, nobody noticed Prince Wu fling aside his clipboard and dash out of the station as if his life depended on haste.

* * *

**Cabbage Corp Subsidiaries **

**Downtown Republic City**

The lights in the lobby of Cabbage Corp Subsidiaries blazed dutifully over the heads of thirty-two terrified hostages and sixteen grim Earth Empire soldiers.

"P—please, why are you doing this? Just let us go—" A bespectacled, rotund middle-aged man whimpered as he crouched beside his desk, hands above his head.

"Silence." The soldier's warning was barely a mutter. But it carried enough threat to immediately quell any noise from the man and his fellow hostages.

They were some of Kuvira's finest, hand-picked from her re-education camps and with top rankings in the Ideology and Patriotism Assessments in the training programs. All of them devoted themselves fanatically to Kuvira and her ideals. All of them were masked, their identities rendered irrelevant in service of the Great Uniter.

Only their leader, Major Tu remained maskless. But his face might as well have been a mask of its own—expressionless, disdainful, with cold beady eyes that surveyed the pathetic gathering of hostages in the lobby.

"Sir." It was his second-in-command. "The weapon is almost ready. We have two comrades in the basement, ready to arm the tank the moment you give the order."

"Not yet." Tu smiled, glancing out of the main doors at the gathering horde of Republic City police. "We need more of them here. Wait until they bring their mechs, their airships, and their armored vehicles. Then we will take them all in one fell swoop."

"Sir." She saluted dutifully, then marched away.

It was a stroke of genius, a moment of inspiration, and evidence of the Great Uniter's divine mandate. The entire hostage situation was nothing more than a ruse to gather Republic City's finest troops in one place, and the city was falling for the trick hook, line and sinker. So far, the police—and their young, inexperienced, incompetent acting-chief—believed them to be mere hostage-takers, men and women that could be reasoned with. That underestimation would be their downfall.

The true trump card was in the basement, in the belly of the stolen armored tank. A miracle derived from the designs of the traitor inventor Sir Varrick. A powerful electromagnetic pulse generator with a radius of one point seven miles, promising to devastate every piece of electronic equipment within its blast area.

Tu's smile broadened into a grin as he heard the slow whine of airship propellers overhead. Beyond the lobby doors, he spotted the squads of mech assembling, forming a perimeter. Further beyond the line, he watched as tanks began to group up on the major street opposite, closing off the cordon. The idea was to draw them close, make them pile up. Get Republic City's best tech out there in front of the doors to a cabbage-selling company.

When the pulse weapon finally went off, their tanks and mech would become scrap metal, and their airships would be turned into plummeting death traps. Sixty percent of Republic City would be rendered permanently devoid of electrical power. Tu and his soldiers would be lost, of course, so close to the blast radius—but it was a worthy sacrifice, for in the instant of activation, the city would lose three quarters of its effective military strength.

Kuvira would march into Republic City all but unopposed.

Tu scoffed, mildly amused, at the thought that he would never get to see the new buildings and streets that would soon be named after him and his fifteen compatriots.

_Long live the Great Uniter._

* * *

**Underneath Little Ba Sing Se Fashion Mall**

Wu was out of the elevator almost before the doors had opened.

"Sato. Trouble."

The old inventor was already next to the radio. "I know. I picked up the police chatter on this old Equalist radio. It sounds bad."

"It could get a lot worse. Kuvira might not intend on letting this end on a casualty-free note." Wu began stripping off his jacket.

"What're you going to do?" Sato looked at Wu, bewildered, as the prince cast his jacket aside and walked over to the weapons locker clad only in a singlet.

"I'm going in. The police can't move into the building, or the hostage-takers might harm the people inside." Wu opened the locker and retrieved a harness. "I'll get in from up top and neutralize them from the inside."

"You're one man, and there're sixteen of them," Sato blurted.

"Sixteen isn't enough," Wu muttered. "Now, you mentioned an old Equalist combat suit."

Sato nodded weakly, and slid back the metal door of a nearby locker.

Suspended on a metal frame was a black suit, composed of a vest with black sleeves and trousers fitted with a utility belt. A hood hung from the collar, and under it, a blank mask was fitted to the face plate.

"We had this made for our lieutenants. Military-grade fabric, strong enough to stop a straight shot from a metal or earth projectile. Completely bending-proof. The mask is equipped with a filter, night-vision goggles, and a two-way radio communicator."

"Nice." Wu was already zipping the vest onto his chest, clicking the harness into place. "Sato, stay here and monitor the radio chatter. Keep me updated via the radio."

"Wu, listen to me." Sato accosted Wu by the arm. "I know you're crazy, and I know nothing I say will change your mind about going in, but listen to me. The people you're going up against are Kuvira's elite. They'll be hitting hard. Don't take any chances. If you can't handle the situation, _get out of there_."

Wu nodded. "Does the Thunder have a full tank?"

"All fuelled up. Take care of the bike, will you?"

"Will do." Wu smiled. He snapped on a pair of shock gloves, and began loading his belt with gas grenades and a shock baton.

"I'll be on channel four. You hear anything, you let me know." Wu reached for the mask, and placed it carefully onto his face.

He was adjusting the hood when he noticed Sato looking at him. Wu suddenly realized that he hadn't seen that expression before. Awe, mixed with a tinge of fear.

"This is all too familiar," Sato muttered. "Once again I am an accomplice to a man in a mask, on an impossible mission to take on a whole city."

Wu smiled, knowing Sato couldn't see it. He adjusted the focus on the internal goggles, fitted neatly into the slanted eyeholes.

The figure that strode out into the garage on the lowest floor of Little Ba Sing Se was not Prince Wu. No trace of the squeamish, talkative monarch remained in the shadow of the man that walked confidently towards the parked motorcycle.

What anyone would have seen was an assassin, clad in black, a mask hiding his face. A hollow shell for all intents and purposes, for the man behind the mask was irrelevant. The mask _was _his face; the shadow of the man was now the embodiment of an idea, whether a demented dream or an incorruptible ideal.

Wu had disappeared. In his place was something else.

The figure's hands closed around the handlebars of the Thunder.

The engine roared to life.

The garage door rose from the floor, powered by an electric motor, to reveal the ramp that led up top to the back alley of Little Ba Sing Se.

"Let's go unleash hell."

* * *

**Because nobody cared who he was until he put on the mask.**

**Read and review please!**


	4. Chapter 4: The Mask in the Dark

**Disclaimer: It is not who I am underneath, but what I do, that defines me.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Mask in the Dark**

* * *

**Cabbage Corp United Commercial Complex**

**Police Cordon, One Block from the Front Doors**

Acting Chief-of-Police Mako surveyed the scene. Sporting a dapper, sleek police uniform with only a very nondescript brooch to denote his rank, he nearly melded into the crowd of anxious police officers, if it weren't for the fact that the very same crowd was pressing against him right now, asking for orders.

"Jae Woon, take your team around the back to cover the exits. Ming, you secure the sewer tunnels. Uyaq and Aki, take your teams up top on the South Point Commercial Complex and the Juhua Hotel respectively—get some eyes on the windows and see if we can scope out what's going on in there." Mako's instructions were clear, firm, and purposeful—he knew that the confidence, or lack thereof, of the police chief would always be multiplied manifold amongst the rest of the force. Nodding confidently, his subordinates moved out.

Nothing had stirred in the Cabbage Corp building for the past thirty minutes. No one had entered or left, no message or demand had emerged. A few veteran officers had gotten close enough to the building to attempt to scan it with Metalbending, but their 'sight' ended abruptly beyond the front door.

"We can't use our Metalbending to see inside," one officer grunted in frustration. "I think that Kuvira's soldiers are using their own Metalbending to block our magnetic fields."

"So now the building is a black hole." Mako assessed the situation grimly. If the captors were going through this much trouble to keep the police in the dark, there was no telling what was going on inside the building.

"Keep the perimeter secure. I'm going to radio in the Sixth Armored Division to back us up," Mako ordered finally. "I'm going to broadcast one more message by loudspeaker to the people inside. If there's no response, in ten minutes I'm moving in with a team via the tunnels."

Out of the hundreds of police officers, auxiliary troops, tank operators, and airship pilots, not a single person noticed a lone figure landing nimbly on the roof of the Cabbage Corp building, quietly detaching his harness from the zip-line.

* * *

**Ten Days Ago**

**Five Spirit Days from Prince Wu's Entry into the Spirit Wilds**

**The Temple of the Hollow Mind**

Whatever it was, it was massive. The stone walkway stretched for what looked like a mile, and the abyss below swallowed all light, showing only the seamless stone stretching endlessly below. Large stone figurines protruded from the dark stone walls, their stony eyes glaring at the two men striding down the narrow path.

"This place gives me the creeps," Prince Wu said, shuddering. He inched closer to Zaheer, his eyes flitting nervously between the cracked stone under his feet and the chasm to his side.

"The Temple of the Hollow Mind was not built for comfort's sake," Zaheer answered calmly. "An ancient race of spirits built this temple as a meditation aid, to help conquer the Thousand Fears. Fear of heights," he gestured at the yawning gap beneath them, "happens to be one of them."

Zaheer's torch offered the only illumination. Behind them and in front of them, the walkway stretched on into murky darkness, straight and unchanging. The very air whispered ominously, seething with an otherworldly malevolence that somehow seemed centuries old.

"This is the first part of your training." Zaheer's steps echoed in the void.

"Really?" Wu looked at him with askance. "Couldn't we just—practice boxing or do some breathing exercises or something?"

"The body is only an instrument. Physical strength is meaningless without mental fortitude. Before one trains the body, one must train the mind." Zaheer spared Wu a sideways glance. "You will drink of the deepest depths of fear, until you overcome it, until you embrace it as part of you."

"Here." Zaheer pointed forwards.

The walkway ended abruptly, at a small circular platform. Ornate symbols adorned its rim. In the middle was a smaller bronze circle, glistening dimly in the flickering light of the torch.

Prince Wu immediately noticed two things. One, the platform was just big enough for maybe two people to stand on, if they squeezed.

Two, if this was the end of the walkway—that meant that the mile-long stone path was…simply suspended in darkness. Hovering, unaided, unsupported, over a chasm so deep that light itself was swallowed up.

"Stand." Zaheer stepped forward, and planted both feet firmly on the circular plane. He left just enough space for Wu to get on.

Shakily, the prince tiptoed over next to him. For a brief moment, Wu's right foot dangled over eternity. Closing his eyes tightly, he wrapped an arm around Zaheer's waist, clinging on for dear life.

He could almost sense his teacher's contempt, though the bearded monk said not a word.

Wu gathered up enough courage to open his eyes. In the torchlight, he could see the walls to his side, smooth and unblemished. Not a single seam ran across the stone surface to show the marks of masonry—it was as if the entire wall, and possibly the entire temple, was hewn from a single, titanic piece of stone.

He turned to Zaheer, who was looking ahead contemplatively.

"Alright. So now what?" Wu asked, trembling. "We—um—we meditate, right? We just stay here and think about silence or sing songs or something? Right?"

Zaheer turned his head slowly, looking down on his pupil with the slightest hint of a smirk.

"Now?"

Casually, contemptuously, he tossed the torch into the chasm. The light sank into the milky darkness like a glowing stone, fading out of sight. Pure liquid black enveloped the two of them, and Wu's heart dropped like a stone.

"We jump."

Dimly, Wu could feel Zaheer's palm against his back. The pressure from the pads of five, rugged fingers, powered by physical strength far beyond his own. Pushing him forward inexorably, even as his very being screamed at him to stay on his feet.

Then there was emptiness below and above him, and the air whipped around his ears as darkness rushed past him and a scream burst from his lips.

* * *

**Present Day**

**Main Hall**

**Cabbage Corp United Commercial Complex**

Kazar fiddled idly with his face mask. Through the window, a glaring beam of light burned down from the searchlights of Republic City's airships, illuminating his viridian uniform and the twin chevrons that denoted his rank as a sergeant in Kuvira's Elite Corps.

A screeching noise howled through the hall—the squealing feedback from a loudspeaker being turned on. Then, a voice, booming through the walls, echoing in the large foyer.

"This is Chief Mako of the Republic City police. We have you surrounded. We are willing to negotiate. We will not attempt to approach the building. Please respond."

The broadcast ended. Kazar sniggered.

To his side, Mai scoffed. "Fools." Her uniform was nearly identical to his, and the heavy fabric of her trench coat outlined very little of her feminine figure. The only difference was the three stripes on her shoulder plate—Lieutenant Mai outranked him.

"Major Tu wants the building secure. Make a sweep of the upper rooms. I'll search the basement." She cocked her head at him. Kazar gave a stiff bow and sauntered away dutifully.

At a leisurely pace, the Earth Empire trooper ascended the wide staircase, passing by a marble bust of Lau Qing-Lan, the deceased founder of Cabbage Corp and father of the current CEO, Lau Gan-Lan. As he made his way to the carpeted corridors of the second floor, the bustle of the police cordon outside faded away to a muted buzz.

The executive floor was usually off-limits to most employees; a place where special guests were entertained and deals were struck. Cabbage Corp may not have had the financial clout of Future Industries, but it could afford to pay for a few creature comforts nonetheless. Dim light issued from the soft electric lamps that hung from the walls, bouncing lightly off the maroon carpets and dark mahogany walls. A potpourri jar sat on a nearby table, issuing a muted, sweet scent that complemented the tasteful décor like fine wine to a sumptuous dinner.

Kazar let himself relax as he removed his face mask, allowing the fresh air to bathe his skin like spring water. The fragrant potpourri wafted upwards like freshly-brewed tea.

The sergeant began whistling a tune as he strode down the corridor, opening the first door and shining a light inside.

_Two little tigers, too little tigers,_

_ Running fast, running fast_

Finding nothing, he closed the door gently.

_One with no eyes, one with no tail_

He had just turned away when something made his very blood run cold.

Someone else was whistling along.

_How strange, how strange_

It was coming from behind him.

The lights all went out.

Kazar's scream was choked off as a hand closed around his throat.

* * *

Mai checked her pocket watch, annoyed.

"Kazar hasn't checked back. It's been five minutes." She snapped it shut, clearly irritated.

"The upper floors are massive. Lots of rooms. Give him more time." Sergeant Han glanced over the balustrade at the rows of hostages sitting meekly next to their desks. Not one dared to look him in the eye—a fact that gave him immense satisfaction.

"Where's Major Tu?"

"Downstairs, in the garage with Chao and Takeshi. We're holding the fort up here. And you've got the highest rank, so whatever you say goes—for now."

Mai was about to head off to the washroom when her radio clicked to life, indicating an incoming transmission.

Simultaneously, Han jerked upright as a similar click issued from his radio.

Every officer in the hall looked around in confusion as their radios responded similarly.

"How?" Han looked around, bewildered. "They're all on different frequencies—"

Mai silenced him with a raised finger.

They heard it. From the radio. Heavy breathing, harsh and rasping, as if someone was too close to the microphone. Then a shuddering sound—a sob.

Mai looked at Han as both of them recognized Kazar's voice. The man who sang the anthem of the Great Uniter full blast, off-key; the man whose voice could be heard from all across the mess hall. The man whose swagger and self-confidence irritated and simultaneously inspired each and every comrade he worked with.

Kazar was crying. Weeping in sheer, abject terror.

Through the lull in his sobs, they heard something else.

Whistling.

_Two little tigers, two little tigers_

Mai reached for the metal blades in her gauntlet, her heart hammering against the tight steel breastplate. "The upper floor."

She bolted for the stairs, barking orders as she took three steps with each stride. "Lu Chen, Baalu, Sanpo! You three secure the hostages here and keep the magnetic barrier up so that the police can't scan this place with their Metalbending! The rest of you—come with me! Han, you're on point with me."

Grimly, the soldiers marched up the stairs. Metal blades and cuffs were unbuckled, prepared for combat. All small talk and joviality were abandoned. Kuvira's best soldiers were on the warpath.

The small squad reached the top of the stairs. Darkness covered the corridors to both ends—the lights were out. The dense coloration of the woodwork absorbed nearly all residual lighting, creating the impression of a dark tunnel leading ominously further into the building.

"Lights on." Using her Metalbending, Mai flicked on the switch of the torch fitted to her shoulder plate. Silently, the metal blades in her gauntlet floated forwards, and with the precision and dexterity of years of training, she guided them subtly with her fingers. As she stepped forward, the narrow torchlight illuminating her path, the blades arraigned themselves in the shape of a fan, pointed menacingly forwards.

Beside her, Han had uncoiled his metal whip. Kept afloat by bending alone, it danced in the air like a live snake, spinning above his outstretched hands in a rapidly unfolding helix.

"Kazar?" Mai ventured forwards. "Kazar, do you copy?"

The blood pounded in her ears as she unleashed a single blade towards the source of the noise, even before it had fully registered. Han's whip squealed as it snapped out, extending a full three feet. Each soldier turned towards the door on the far end of the corridor—the door that had just creaked open.

Mai controlled her breathing. _Calm down. Remember your training._

"Keep on your toes. We'll search the rooms one by one."

The team fanned out, sweeping the corridor meticulously. Keeping formation, the ten soldiers moved forward, turning methodically to ensure that no soldier had their backs turned to a doorway—leaving them vulnerable to a surprise attack. Their breaths were noisy, made turbulent by the restrictive face masks.

"Mai. Look." Han pointed, his voice barely above a whisper.

A green shred of cloth, hooked on the hinge of the doorway. A piece of Kazar's uniform.

Mai raised her hand. The group paused, readying themselves.

"Han. Scan the room."

Han nodded. Raising his foot carefully, he stomped the ground.

The magnetic waves radiated forth in concentric circles around, bouncing and eddying as they came into contact with objects around them. Han focused his attention on the room beyond. He needed only two seconds of concentration before his heart leapt to his throat and he took a step backwards.

"Thirty, maybe thirty-five people. Inside that room." He braced himself. The whip shuddered and stretched, reacting to his alarm. Mai's lips bared in a snarl; the other soldiers took their positions.

_We covered all entrances. How could the police send people inside?_

"Were they moving?" Mai inquired in a whisper.

Han shook his head. "Don't think so. I don't think they know we're here."

_They're interrogating Kazar. He's probably being kept in the center of the room._

"On my command, we go in. Take them all out." Mai gestured quickly to the soldiers behind her, who nodded grimly. "Start with those on the fringes of the room. Kazar will probably be in the middle."

A few tense seconds ticked by. Mai's blades quivered in the air, picking up the vibrations from Han's whip which remained airborne like the tail of a scorpion. Behind them, more blades and discs floated forth from their sockets, in preparation of the fight to come.

"_Now!_"

Mai burst in first. The darkness was stifling, but her senses had kicked in completely. Her Metalbending highlighted the figures nearest to her, reacting like the sonar of a wolf-bat. Straight away she unleashed a flurry of blades onto the enemies to her front, her body whirling in the air like a dancer. Her arms swung in a perfect arc as the blades disengaged from their downed targets and spun back to her gauntlet, ready to be shot forth again. She ducked as Han's whip lashed out and snapped against three more targets to her left, her body responding with the confidence of one who knew exactly where each of her teammates was going to be in a fight.

Wait.

Something wasn't right.

"Disengage! Everyone, stop!" Mai barked. Kazar's whip hung indecisively in the air, before obediently snaking back to its owner. The blades and discs floated quietly back to their users.

Mai walked over to one of the downed figures. Stiff, unmoving. She prodded it with her foot—and it connected with hard plastic.

Mai cursed. "Mannequins."

Han looked around the room. "Dozens of them. Dressed up." In the unsteady light of his torch, he picked up a few models dressed in period costume, and others displaying the modern fashion of present-day Republic City. "I thought Cabbage Corp was an auto company. Why are fashion items on display?"

Mai shrugged. "I don't know. I don't care. This was obviously a distraction. We're wasting time here. Let's move out!" She waved towards the operatives behind her.

"Wait." Han stopped her, then pointed towards the middle of the room. In the darkness, a figure was squirming.

"Kazar."

Mai immediately pushed past the rows of silent, unmoving mannequins to reach the silhouette. She got close enough to see that Kazar was bound and gagged, his eyes covered with a blindfold, his entire body strapped between two mannequins with metal bands from his own uniform.

She could hear Han swear under his breath.

Mai reached forward, and with one quick motion, removed Kazar's gag. Gasping for air, she saw the rise of his chest as he gathered up breath for a scream.

"Kazar, Kazar! It's me, Mai. Calm down. We have you." She gripped his shoulder tightly.

Kazar sputtered something unintelligible. His lips quivered as a small line of drool rolled down the side of his mouth.

"Kazar, I need you to focus. Who did this to you?"

The young Earth Empire soldier shook his head, shaking like a leaf in the wind against his restraints.

"He's h—here. He's here. He—"

Mai gripped his shoulder tighter and shook him roughly. "Talk sense. Who's here?"

Kazar stopped suddenly, his mouth agape. Fear had driven reason completely from his mind.

For at that exact moment, the door to the room slammed shut.

Han yelped, jumping up a clear foot. "Get that door open!" He fiddled with his torchlight. The beam flickered, then died. He cursed. "Must have been the magnetic energy from our Earthbending. Our flashlights are malfunctioning!"

"Sir!" One of the troopers gasped, straining against the door. "We can't get it open! The door must have an electronic lock!"

"Blow it open!" Han barked.

"We're—we're trying! I think this door is made of pure titanium, it's unbendable. This must be a vault of some kind!"

Mai's heart began to pound as her own flashlight began to fail. She clicked it repetitively, desperately trying to get it to work. Silently, she cursed the enthusiasm of her Earthbending. _This was planned. We're going to fight in the dark._

Then Kazar spoke. Softly, spitting those few words in a breathless wheeze.

"_It's a trap._"

Mai's flashlight died. The room plunged into darkness.

* * *

Nothing but breathing could be heard at first. Breathing, and the nervous footsteps of the soldiers nearest the door.

Then Mai began issuing orders.

"Alright, everyone, combat positions! Soldiers to the flank, use your Metalbending to scan the room at two second intervals! Han, see if you can find any fissure lines in the walls to use your bending on. Tuya, come here and help get Kazar out of this mess." She tried to sound more confident than she actually was. Things were going south _really _fast. Major Tu was still in the garage. _We cannot fail. We cannot afford to lose time—or soldiers._

Rhythmically, her subordinates stomped on the ground, pounding away with precision. Dimly, she felt the magnetic waves vibrate across her feet. It was now the only way for them to navigate their surroundings. They had walked into a perfect trap—lured in by their own enthusiasm and haste.

With palms spread open, Han swept his arms across the room, his fingers trembling as he tested his bending against the walls. "No luck. The walls are made completely of pure metal," he hissed. "This vault must have been made to keep Metalbenders out."

_Or to keep them in. _Mai didn't voice her thoughts.

Then—

"Hey, hey, boss?" The soldier's voice quavered, and Mai heard him step closer to her. "I don't know if it might just be my Metalbending getting rusty—"

"Spit it out, soldier," she spat, irritated.

"—I think one of the mannequins, over there towards the right—I think it just moved."

Mai could almost _feel_, in spite of the darkness, every head spin towards the right of the room.

"Garbage," said Han, but even he was starting to sound uncertain.

Nothing stirred. Nobody dared breathe. Then one other soldier stomped on the floor again—

"There! Over to the left—another just moved!" he hissed.

All heads spun left. Mai exhaled slowly, her blades singing in the air as they rearranged themselves.

"I've had enough of this." Stepping forward, Han threw his right arm forward as his left arm drew down to his hip, his hips bending to accommodate the flow of energy. As if in reply, his whip shot out. Spinning in a helix across the room, it snapped against something hard. Han grunted as he flicked his wrists. The whip slashed in a spiral; in the near-dark, the shadow of a head and bits of a torso were thrown violently up in the air like morsels from the teeth of a beast.

"Han, _enough!_ Save your energy until we know what's going on!" Mai snapped. Han growled, and recalled the whip. The broken pieces of the mannequin clattered to the floor, releasing a cloud of fine dust from the shredded plastic.

Mai stomped the ground, feeling the reflections of the magnetic wave return to her feet as naturally as sight itself. Nothing was moving. At least, not yet.

Wait.

"Han. Ten of us came into this room, right? Not counting Kazar?"

"Yeah."

Mai's blood froze. She sent out another wave. It showed her the same thing.

"So—_why do I only sense nine of us_?"

The silence hung in the air like the cold breath of a ghost. Han didn't reply. Mai could feel each soldier fidget, could sense the vibrations from their nervous feet scraping against the floor.

Then, from her far left, she heard—_oof. _A soft gasp of breath, suddenly cut short.

Mai stomped again. The wave radiated forward, then returned to her foot. The revelation sent panic to her heart for real this time.

"Eight of us left."

Han drew closer to her, his shoulder touching hers. Mai felt the other soldiers pull inwards, forming a defensive circle.

"Where—where's Tuya?" One whispered. "He's gone. He was just here."

"I don't like this."

"Something is picking us off."

Han flexed his fingers, and his whip circled the small group like a moving, lethal barrier.

"I don't understand," he hissed.

To his right, one soldier hammered frantically on his shoulder torch. "Come on, come on." He pounded on the plate, blindly and desperately. "_Come on!_" The torch buzzed once, sending out a blip of light.

"Knock it off!" His partner whispered. With their eyes already adjusted to the near dark, even if he were to somehow get the torch to work, the glaring light would blind and disorient them, not help them to see better.

The soldier ignored him. _Bang. Bang. _The metal gauntlet hit the torch relentlessly. The little bulb sparked to life once, then—

"_Yes!_"

A beam of light blazed forth. The trooper yelped with relief, the beam veering from side to side as he turned from side to side, expecting praise from his partners. Muttered curses came from either side as his compatriots tried to shield their eyes.

"I got it to work! Now we can see—"

As he stretched his back, the beam swung upwards to the ceiling.

The small group noticed nothing at first. They were fixated on the space immediately in front of them, all on their guard, determined not to break the defensive formation. It was a few seconds before one soldier realized that his friend still had the torch beam pointed at the ceiling.

"Rihan, what are you doing—"

The sentence was cut short as the trooper saw Rihan's eyes, frozen in terror, fixed on the ceiling. And then, slowly, his gaze drifted upwards, to the black shape hanging from above them, and the terrifying visage of the _thing _as it descended like a nightmare—

"_Aaaaargh!_"

The beam of light died.

In the darkness, the wild flash of the failing flashlight was the last thing five Earth Empire officers saw before unconsciousness claimed them.

Mai spun around. She could feel the movement in the air and through the ground—wild, frantic flailing, bodies turning and falling in confusion. Then suddenly, a flash of blue, sparking like lightning.

She raised her blades uselessly. _No point. I can't use them. _In the dark, and with friendlies to her left and right, she would almost certainly hit one of her own.

Mai did the only thing that made sense. She recalled the blades to her gauntlet. As her arm drew back, the little wings of metal assembled themselves into twin blades, lining her arm.

"Han! To your front!" She called out. Then Mai launched herself into the fray.

She had nothing but her Earthbending to guide her. Through the erratic pulses of her magnetic sense, she could see three of her soldiers fall limply to the ground. In the dark, a thin strip of blue lightning blazed in an arc before disappearing. _Firebender? _She thought desperately. Tracking its movement, she threw a powerful punch where she thought the Firebender's body would be.

It connected painfully with the chest of an Earth Empire officer, who fell to the ground limply.

Mai cursed, sweating. _Focus, focus. _She was a professional. Not an amateur. _How did I miss? _She hit _exactly _where the attacker's chest would be! Nothing could move that fast, not even a Firebender skilled enough to bend lightning.

_Unless—_

_Unless it's not a Firebender we're dealing with._

As she stepped back, the magnetic pulse returned to her foot, revealing how many of her soldiers were still standing. Now the panic was a voice, screaming in her head like a pig-chicken: _Four left! Four left!_

Mai saw it, moving too fast for her to react. Two identical arcs of blue energy, spiraling downwards across the air from in front of her.

"Oomph!" She saw two bodies cackle with energy, seizing up like dolls snatched up by their strings. Then Mai watched, horrified, as two of the remaining four soldiers dropped to the floor.

Han bellowed: "_Long live the Great Uniter!_"

The whip shot forth from his arm, singing as it flew through the air. His right fist closed over its handle as his left hand directed its path, zipping the thin metal wire in a deadly arc across the room.

Han felt it connect.

Like the tail of a scorpion, the wire bit into its target, wrapping around it. Han felt the whip quiver. Instantly, the vibrations told him what he needed to know—he hadn't hit a mannequin. His whip had snagged a moving target.

"_Got you!_"

Han grinned triumphantly, his hand still closed around the whip, preparing for the coup de grace where he would pull the target off-balance and reel him in like a helpless fish.

Han was still smiling when he spotted a new blaze of lightning, burning in the air in the shape of a human hand.

It touched the wire.

The blue energy zapped up the whip like wildfire, and slammed into Han's body with the force of five hundred units of electrical current.

His body seized up and his eyes rolled back in his head. Mai watched in horror as one of the best soldiers she knew collapsed to the ground senseless.

The room was quiet again. With Han down, she was alone.

Mai turned around in a slow circle, her legs cutting a wide arc, her arms facing in opposite directions, her fists clenched and ready to unleash her arsenal of blades.

She breathed harshly. _I am not going down this way._

"You're not taking me so easily!" she shouted into the dark. Her voice bounced off the walls back at her, hollow and mocking.

"You think you scare me?" More out of bravado than anything, she fired off two blades from her gauntlet. They zipped through the air like swallows, cutting a wide circuit around her before returning to her gloves. _Maybe if I keep this up, I can stop—whatever it is—from getting to me. I can wear it down, catch it unawares._

"I am a servant of the Great Uniter!" Mai declared. "My heart is resolute, and my will is iron! I live in Kuvira's service and her service alone!"

She spat into the darkness. "_You do not frighten me!_"

Mai inhaled. She was out of breath. The rush of bravery and fervor was comforting, and she felt slightly more in control. _I am a professional. I am Major Tu's second-in-command._

Mai turned her head slightly, surveying the room, her eyes adjusting to the darkness just in time to see the blank, white mask looming in the darkness, lunging out of the black, coming so close so fast that the empty eyeholes had already filled her vision.

Mai shrieked her lungs out as her courage failed her.

* * *

"**To conquer fear, you must become fear. You must bask in the fear of other men. And men fear most what they cannot see." –Ra's Al-Ghul, **_**Batman Begins**_

**PS. Mai's first encounter with the Masked...Thing was inspired by the Marionette/Puppet in the horror game Five Nights at Freddy's 2. I especially took cues from its musical leitmotif (the whistled tune through Kazar's radio), its lunging attack, and its piss-scary white blank mask.**


	5. Chapter 5: Fearbending

**Chapter 5: Fearbending**

* * *

**The Spirit World**

**Five Spirit-Days from Prince Wu's entry into the Spirit Wilds**

**The Temple of the Hollow Mind**

**Nest of Bhay**

Darkness. Heart pounding. Head swimming.

There was a floor underneath his feet. The only solid object, in an eternity of blackness.

"Zaheer?" Wu reached out, stretching his arm. His hand grasped nothing but empty air all around. He stumbled. "_Zaheer!_"

_How long have I been here?_

Days. Weeks, maybe. Fallen down endlessly into an infinite chasm. He couldn't remember the exact moment when he realized he was no longer accelerating, and looked under his feet to see, bizarrely, a solid surface beneath it.

"_I will feed on your fear."_

Wu spun around. The voice echoed all around, increasing in intensity.

His mouth went dry.

"Hello?"

Behind him, something skittered around the floor. Something with too many legs.

Then he saw it.

A face, appearing from the dark. Carved from ancient, cracked stone, a serene visage of a man with his eyes closed. Hovering about three feet above the ground. Suspended in blackness.

Wu stared into the mask.

And then, like retreating ink, the darkness lifted. Only a little bit. Just enough for Wu to see the rest of the thing.

The creature was longer than even the longest snake Wu could imagine. Thin, decrepit, with flakes peeling off its rocky carapace like broken tiles. Hook-like legs, digging into the floor, each one sharp and glistening. And its head. The mask was nothing more than a disguise, a vestigial accessory. A tiny artifact atop the creature's true head—eyeless, featureless, a hollow hole lined with teeth.

An ancient, monstrous centipede, only a stone's throw from the helpless prince.

It lunged.

The prince shrieked.

Legs scuttled on the floor, echoing in the din like the tinkling of a xylophone. Scales scraped on the hard surface, sending more flakes peeling off and clattering. The head roared, a terrible noise that sounded like the terrified screams of a multitude. An avalanche of twisted flesh and pure primal fear, looming over the hopeless prince, as unstoppable and inexorable as a force of nature.

And then a hand on Wu's shoulder.

"_Bhay._" The monk's calm voice sounded out like a bugle call. "Return to the shadows."

Zaheer emerged next to Wu. The dark and the fear seemed to retreat, as the rogue monk's palpable aura began to grow. And the creature hissed.

"_Mad monk. You cannot deny me what is mine."_

Zaheer simply smiled. And Wu felt the aura glow and glow, like an invisible source of heat, radiating from Zaheer. The monster retreated, legs skittering, spitting vehemently.

"Go," Zaheer commanded softly. "Feed on the fear of the _apsaras _and _asuras _that once dwelt here. Feed on their fear that still lingers. Trouble the living no more."

With a snarl of dissatisfaction, the centipede-like beast turned away. The darkness closed back in, covering its retreat. Now only Wu and Zaheer remained, an oasis of warmth and sanity amid a sea of blackness.

The prince recovered his voice at last.

"You—you left—you left me alone! In the dark!" Wu rounded on Zaheer, stretching his neck up to look at the taller man.

"On the contrary," Zaheer replied, "I was never more than an arm's reach from you. I was watching you. Seeing you fight your fear."

"Days—I was here for days! Why didn't you say _anything_?" Wu wailed, tearing at his hair.

Zaheer raised an eyebrow. "Boy, you have been here for only one minute."

"That can't be right."

The bearded man looked up, at the vastness of the space above them. "Fear distorts your perception of time. A minute can seem like an eternity."

"So what was the point of all this?" Wu demanded, shaking his fist. "Why did you even _bring _me here? And what was that—that—that—_thing_?"

"That," Zaheer responded softly, "was _Bhay_."

"Bhay?" Wu echoed.

"An ancient creature that feeds on fear. Eons ago, when the spirit _asuras _built this place to meditate and draw from the energy of the Spirit World, it crept in. It was drawn by the fear that they expelled in their quest to increase their spiritual power. And so it built its nest here, in the lowest level of the Temple of the Hollow Mind, and fed hungrily." Zaheer stared ahead at the dark.

"The _asuras _considered destroying it. In his hunger, Bhay had almost killed many of them, drained them dry of not only their fear but their life essence. But then they changed their mind when they realized that when Bhay drew out the fear from one's heart, it allowed them to manipulate that fear. To dispel it, if wished; but also to cast it into another. To bend the fear within oneself, and project it into the heart of another."

Lost in thought, Zaheer continued on, barely noticing if Wu was listening. "The _asuras _used Bhay as a weapon against their kin. In the titanic war that followed, Bhay followed their vast army, chained and bound. He fed on their fear, as was his nature to do. And the _asuras _bent that fear as it left their bodies, and willed it forward, sending it into the hearts of their enemies. Driving them mad and feverish. Tearing their ranks asunder."

"And?" Wu whispered. "What happened?"

Zaheer bowed simply. "The _asuras _eventually destroyed themselves, and the Spirit War ended. The Spirit Wilds grew up around the marks of their great battles, swallowing up the remnants of their ancient culture. And Bhay, free to roam the world, returned here, to the place where he once built his nest. And here he feeds on the energy that still pools within the Temple. Feeds on the fear of beings that are long gone from this world."

The monk looked at Wu. "I have brought you here, so that you may understand the true nature of fear—and its power." He clenched his fist. "You know it as an enemy. But it can become a _weapon_."

"Before the dawn of the lion turtles, before humanity learned to bend the elements, the _asuras _bent another form of energy altogether. More powerful than earth, air, fire, or water. More potent and dangerous than even the strongest incarnation of the Avatar."

Zaheer laid his hand on Wu's heart. "Feel it beating in your chest. Feel it breathing down your neck, spreading across your skin, churning your mind into a frenzy. Feel its power."

"Know that this power can be yours."

Wu shuddered, looking down at the rugged hand laid over his chest. "So this whole field trip was simply to—what?—teach me a lesson? Make a point, talk about scary centipedes?"

Zaheer hesitated. "Yes. And no. I needed to make you understand the nature of fear. To show you how to overcome it, to use it, to control it, to _bend _it and make it do your bidding. But I also needed you for something else."

He turned, and looked into the darkness. "I have been here for _centuries_, in the time of this world. My fear has long been purged and cleansed. I no longer hold anything within me that can sate Bhay's appetite. So I needed a fresh heart. A heart brimming with fresh fear the beast can feed on. I allowed Bhay to leech off the fear emanating so liberally from your mind."

"Wait a minute," Wu sputtered. "Wait _a minute!_ So I was—was—lunchtime for that thing? You wanted it to feed on _me_?"

Zaheer looked nonplussed. "Hey, I was here to make sure nothing went wrong."

Wu scowled.

The monk grew serious all of a sudden. "The _asuras' _fear was great. But they are no longer here to supply Bhay with fresh fear. And the lingering aura in this temple, powerful though it may feel, will one day be drained dry by his hunger."

Zaheer scanned the dark around them, and Wu followed his gaze, expecting to see the long, slender, scaly body emerge from the dark again.

"Bhay is one of a forgotten race. A feeder and devourer, a massive and titanic parasite that eats and destroys, so that the Spirit World is free to create and give. To make way for new life, to maintain the balance. There is one other of his race that feeds still, a creature that has also consumed the hearts and minds of many. A creature you may know well."

The older man's gaze went back to Wu's jittery face. "_Ko. _The Face-Stealer."

The prince's eyes went wide. "I've—I've heard stories of it. My nanny used to scare me into behaving myself, by saying that if I kept going out to play, Ko would take my face. It—it's _real_? Ko exists?"

Zaheer nodded. "He feeds on faces. Dreams. Memories. Personalities. But he is still _rakshasa, _keeping covenant with his original nature and his dedication to the balance. His hunger can be sated, his appetite can be appeased. And as such, he is not such a great threat."

"But _Bhay_." He drew a breath. "Bhay's hunger has been used as a weapon of war. He has suffered the torture of millennia under the _asuras_, and it has corrupted him. His hunger is all-consuming, his lust for fear unbridled. Even now, even with his old captors gone, he must still feed, and feed, and feed."

Wu said nothing.

"That is why I bring him fresh fear, within your heart, to fill the reservoir in which he makes his home." Zaheer gripped Wu's arm. "I blunt his hunger, even if it is by a small bit. Because I fear what will happen the day that this Temple is drained of the last drop of fear, and Bhay wanders outwards into the Spirit World, to consume all that he sees. I fear for the spirits and beasts that will be slain to appease his desire."

"And most of all," Zaheer said in barely a whisper, "I fear for the worst. I fear that when he has devoured all the fear in the Spirit World, he will find his way into the _human _one."

"Understand fear, young one." He faced Wu. "Know it. Embrace it. Use it to defend yourself and those you care about. To bend fear is to bend a power greater than any element wielded by those who consider themselves your betters."

Zaheer stepped left, pausing only to pull Wu along.

"Now let's leave this stinking place."

* * *

**Present Day**

The timer ran down to zero.

The electronic lock on the door disengaged. Slowly, on motorized hinges, the rectangular door swung open into the dark corridor beyond.

A lone figure stepped out from the vault. The light armor rippled in the dim light from the foyer beyond, illuminating the intricate fibers of the flexible material. Its blank white mask surveyed the surroundings silently from under its hood, as unreal and inhuman as the visage of some malevolent spirit. With a gloved hand, it reached up and switched off the night-vision lens built into the mask.

Wu gingerly pressed his fingers on his stomach, wincing under the mask. One of Kuvira's soldiers had Metalbended a wire around his body and snagged him like a fish on a hook. While the lightweight armor had prevented it from cutting into his skin, Wu was still sure that a nasty bruise was forming under his suit. Unluckily for the soldier, steel was also an excellent conductor of electricity—a fact that he found out in a painful way.

_Theatricality and deception, to substitute physical strength. _The overwhelming success of the melee in the vault was due to a combination of creativity, psychological warfare, and sheer luck on the part of the mannequins; Wu had found the dummies discarded in an empty room, remnants of Cabbage Corp's failed foray into the realm of fashion design.

Wu exploited the one weakness of using Metalbending to sense one's surroundings—it would only work on objects in direct contact with the floor, ceiling, or walls. Using a simple system of pulleys and lightweight cables (easily salvaged from a locker of automobile parts), he had suspended about five or six mannequins from the ceiling, raising and lowering them to give the illusion of movement. Using the same system of cables, he managed to navigate the room without setting off the magnetic senses of the Earth Empire warriors, letting him get the drop on them in _spectacular _fashion. Naturally, the paranoia and panic already brewing within the group did most of the job for him.

Zaheer's voice came back to him from a distant memory. _A fight is as much a conflict of minds as it is a clash of bodies. To attack your enemy's mind is as potent and deadly as damaging his body. _

_To bend fear is a power greater than any element._

Wu checked his arsenal. He had exhausted two power cells during the fight in the vault, leaving five more to power his batons and shock gloves. Three gas canisters for smoke cover. And a pair of electrified bolas, twin balls connected by a wire and charged with a power cell containing six hundred units.

Ten soldiers down. That meant six more unaccounted for.

Wu edged to the top of the stairs and peered down. _Three soldiers in the main hall. _One was posted near the main door, with two more at the other two entrances to the main foyer.

_So where are the other three?_

Wu found the toggle under his mask and switched on the communicator. "Sato."

"_Oh thank goodness you're okay! What happened?"_

"I managed to take out ten of them. That leaves six more."

"_Ten—ten?"_ Sato stammered. He sounded surprised. "_Very—very well done. Any idea where the other six are?"_

"I see three in the main hall, near the hostages. The other three, no clue."

"_Wu, I've been listening in on the police chatter. Seems that they can't get a good view into the building through Metalbending—because the soldiers inside are using their own bending to block the vibrations._"

Wu peeked out from behind the wall. The three soldiers were not moving even the slightest. On a second look, they appeared to be exerting themselves, despite not having moved outwardly.

"Sato, I think those three soldiers I see are the ones blocking the bending fields. If I take them out, that should allow the police to get a good view inside—and possibly get the hostages to safety."

"_All right. Sounds like a plan. Just be careful. Make sure you check the hall thoroughly before you make your move—the hostages may be booby-trapped. Look out for explosives, trip-wires, detonators, anything of that sort." _Sato's voice was barely a rumble.

"Booby-traps?" Wu repeated.

"_It's what I would do,_" Sato muttered back through the radio.

_Of course, I forgot. This was one of the ringleaders of the Equalist movement. A guerilla fighter at heart._

Wu spent half a minute assessing the situation. The set-up was looking more and more sloppy the longer he scrutinized it, especially since these were supposed to be Kuvira's elite troops. The three soldiers were facing away from each other, more than fifteen feet apart, separated by desks and cabinets and any number of items to provide cover. He could easily pick them off one by one without alerting the others.

_Focus. It's not as easy as you think. _What if there were other soldiers unaccounted for? There could easily be a second team, waiting in hiding.

_Or maybe whoever is leading this little mission is trying to make do of the numbers they have available._

There were two reasons why there were three soldiers in the main hall instead of six. One, the leader was sloppy, and simply spread the meagre forces too thin.

_Or two. There's something else here that's more important than the hostages._

First things first.

Wu slinked down the stairs, planting his feet lightly on the wooden surface, distributing his weight artfully. His footsteps were nearly silent. The prince might not be able to Airbend, or fly through the air, but Zaheer's tutelage in _becoming wind _had trained Wu well in the art of agility and invisibility. He was a shadow, a wraith, a passing breeze that left no step. He was wind.

He ducked behind a cabinet next to a desk, one of several that supported a telephone and a typewriter—a typical cookie-cutter bean-counter's workplace for Cabbage Corp.

The hostages were positioned in the center of the hall, where the desks had been quickly shoved aside or upended. All of them were sitting, looking downwards in despondency. Wu caught sight of metal bands around the wrists of the hostages closest to him, but they seemed otherwise unbound. _That's going to be a problem. The last thing I need is thirty-plus people running about in panic once I start taking down the soldiers._

He slipped between the backs of two desks, making a half-circuit around the group of hostages. No trip-wires or alarms from the looks of it. Wu wasn't sure if that fact comforted or worried him.

The nearest Earth Empire soldier was only ten feet away. Legs spread at shoulder-width, arms at his side, and masked face looking forward, he appeared completely focused on maintaining the blocking field that prevented the Earthbending waves from penetrating within.

He was so intent on looking forward, he never so much as felt the subtle pressure from the thin wire of the bolas looping around his neck.

With a swift jerk, Wu simultaneously pulled the soldier to the ground and activated the power cell. The armored soldier's body shuddered as the current surged through him.

In the silence, the armored plating bounced noisily like glass kitchenware hitting the floor.

_Crap._

The remaining two guards turned their heads immediately. So did all thirty-five of the hostages.

Wu's breath caught in his throat. He remained poised over the now-limp body, barely daring to draw another breath.

"What was that?" Wu heard. He slunk back behind the desk, preparing his shock gloves. _I screwed up now. _Cold sweat ran down the inside of his mask.

_Don't take any chances. _Sato's warning came back to him, mockingly.

"I'm checking it out." A burly Earth Empire officer dropped his stance, putting his arms at his side, and turning around. "Can you block out the field by yourself?"

"Yeah. Just hurry, Baalu. It's hard work doing it alone."

"Stop complaining, Sanpo. I'll be quick."

Wu sneaked another peek for as long as he dared. The soldier that was now approaching his hiding place was six feet of solid muscle, body armor glistening in the electric light above, a pair of threatening metal discs hanging from his belt, each looking about five pounds heavy. Each step echoed on the marble floor, like the rhythmic banging of a gong.

Wu looked down at his own body, and saw a sixteen year-old boy wearing a combat suit made for a warrior at least twenty pounds heavier than he was.

The massive soldier was right between him and the last available bit of cover. The only other option was fifty feet of clear space to his left.

_Reality ensues after all. _The stunt in the vault upstairs was beginning to seem more and more like an incredible stroke of luck.

It was one thing to get the drop on ten frightened, disoriented people trapped in darkness. It was quite another to go toe-to-toe with a fully armored, highly-trained Earthbender—especially with the physical shape of a prince whose idea of exercise for most of his life, was strolling from a shopping trip to a kelp and nibble-fish spa. Ninja training or no ninja training, Wu was painfully aware of his physical limits—limits that he suspected would soon be tested. In a manner of seconds.

_I am so screwed._

Desperately glancing around, Wu saw nothing around him but an assortment of random knick-knacks on the nearest desk. A stapler, a box of freshly-sharpened pencils, and a little Sky Bison plush toy.

The soldier was twenty feet away, halfway across the hall and between the rows of cowed hostages when Wu had a second idea, a spark of inspiration.

* * *

Baalu unhooked the metal disc from his belt, letting it hang from one of his meaty fingers. The strain of the five-pound weight barely registered. Every muscle in his body tensed as he strode towards the source of the sound that had alerted him.

"Lu Chen! Are you there?"

Then he saw it. Lu Chen's prone body, sprawled unceremoniously on the floor.

Baalu instantly dropped into a battle stance, the metal disc swinging deftly from his finger to his palm.

"Who did this?" He whirled around, glaring at the nearest hostage. "_You! _What did you see? What happened?"

The poor man squealed and looked down hastily, shaking his head so hard that his glasses flew clear off his face.

"What's going on?" Sanpo called out from across the hall, back still turned, unable to switch position without breaking the blocking field. "Baalu! Talk to me!"

"It's Lu Chen, he's down!" Baalu called out. A murmur ran through the crowd of hostages; a stern glare quelled it instantly. "I'm going for backup!"

"What do you mean, he's down?" Sanpo's voice was tinged his panic. He turned his head as far as he could, desperately scanning the scene. "Check on him! _Don't _mess this up when we're so close to victory!"

Baalu approached Lu Chen carefully, kneeling by his chest. The metal disc never left his hand as he shook his unconscious comrade. "Lu Chen. Get up."

The muscular Earth Empire warrior placed a hand underneath Lu Chen's shoulder. Using his knees as leverage, he turned him over.

Baalu's eyes went wide in surprise and confusion.

Lu Chen was limp and unmoving, still breathing, albeit shallowly. Perched on his chest was a little Sky Bison soft toy, slightly squashed from being compressed under the soldier's weight, and pressed to his chest with one of Lu Chen's limp hands still clad in a heavy metal gauntlet.

"What the—"

Dismissively, Baalu grabbed the idiotic toy and yanked it out from between Lu Chen's chest and his unmoving hand.

As the little Sky Bison parted from the downed soldier's body armor with a _squeak_, Baalu's fingers felt the fine fibers of a metal wire.

His eyes reacted before his mind caught up with it. Too late, Baalu felt the _click _of the fragile tripwire snapping just as he spotted the power cell right underneath the stuffed animal.

_Buzz._

Dutifully, the power cell discharged its entire load of six hundred units into the body of the hulking Earth Empire soldier, thundering through every muscle in his body until he shook like a rattle, cackling with blue lightning.

Baalu hit the ground with a _thud. _The five-pound steel disc dropped to the floor right after him, rolling briefly on the cracked marble before toppling over.

The eyes of the hostages lingered on the fallen soldier, wide with disbelief. No one spoke, each man and woman still struggling to comprehend the scene they had just witnessed. Two Earth Empire warriors, who had instilled fear and obedience in them, had just been taken down by something unseen.

"Baalu! What in the world is _going on back there_?" Sanpo yelled out, more panicked than angry this time.

The hostages, one by one, turned to look at Sanpo. Now their eyes were filled with something else besides shock and surprise. Hope. Expectation.

Vindication.

Sanpo was the only remaining Earth Empire soldier in the entire hall. The only one left of their captors and tormentors.

"_Maggots! _What are you looking at?" He spat at the hostages, catching their gaze from the corner of his eye. Some looked away. Others looked on defiantly.

"Baalu! Get back here _now_!" Sanpo shouted again. From his position, he could not turn his head far enough back to see what had become of his compatriot.

The warrior finally had enough. Sanpo threw down his hands. "_Forget _the blocking field! I will deal with you all myself!" He whirled around, rounding on the nearest hostage, a young secretary who scrambled to kick herself away from him, high heels scraping into the floor.

Sanpo never saw it coming. A shock baton, charged with electricity, driven by a fist that appeared from the periphery of his vision. It rammed into his chest, the electrical energy discharging with the force of a small bomb.

The Earth Empire soldier flew backwards and smashed into a cabinet. His body lay there, sprawled in the wooden woodwork, for a fraction of a second.

Then slowly, inexorably, the cabinet toppled over and hit the ground with a resounding crash.

The hostages looked silently at the fallen body of the last soldier. Then their eyes were driven to a new figure that appeared on the scene. A ghost, clad in black, its hooded face hidden by a mask, its hand still gripping a baton that radiated energy. It stood, unmoving, above the body of Sanpo.

Every man and woman in the hall recoiled as its featureless face turned slowly to face them.

_Okay. _Wu froze. _This is usually the point where you should say something cool._

Then the door at the end of the hall exploded outwards.

* * *

**Three Minutes Ago**

**In the Maintenance Tunnels beneath the Cabbage Corp Building**

Mako crouched, poised, near the door to the underground maintenance area of the Cabbage Corp building. Behind him, his team stood ready in the narrow crawlspace of the newly-dug tunnel, excavated by two of the many skilled Earthbenders that were spearheading the rescue effort.

"Chief." One Earthbender spoke suddenly, perking up like a dog sniffing the air. "It's the blocking field; the one that stopped us from sending pulses into the building to map it out. It's gone."

"You're sure?" Mako whispered back hurriedly.

The man stomped the ground lightly. "Very sure. I'm getting everything now. The floor plan, the electronic signals, reverberations off the people in the building—"

A second Earthbender cut in. "Chief, there's only one of Kuvira's soldiers in the main hall! He's the only one guarding the hostages."

Mako's heart thrilled with hope. "It could be a trap. Anything unusual that you can sense in the main hall? They may have planted a bomb."

The man stomped sending out another probing pulse. "No, and I'd know, Chief. I've been working with the bomb disposal squad for five years. I can smell an explosive a mile away with my _feet_—and I'm telling you, the main hall is _clear_."

Mako's brow narrowed as he balled up his fists. "Then our terrorist friends have just made a _big _mistake."

The basement door blew open as Mako unleashed a torrent of fire from his hand—it hid the opposite wall in the corridor beyond, red hot and steaming.

"Come on! Let's get these office workers out of there!" Mako sped into the corridor as his team struggled to keep up. From around the corner, he called out: "Radio in Team Two, tell them to get in the front door. Bring in the paramedics to evacuate any wounded hostages. Let's roll!"

Mako thundered onward, up a flight of stairs, as his radio officer spoke breathlessly into his walkie-talkie. "Team Two, move in the front door; Code Sparrow, paramedics needed with AED. Repeat, main hall is a go!"

One last door stood between the basement level and the main hall. Mako did not break stride even as he spun in the air and blasted the door down with a flaming kick.

The young Firebender recoiled for a moment as the blazing light of the bright main hall stung against his eyes, which had adjusted to the dark. From behind, the pitter-patter of armored boots rang as the rest of his team fanned out into the hall.

Mako's eyes recovered just in time to register the strange shadow standing on the far end of the hall, across from the field of tied-up and seated hostages. Upright, indistinct, and threatening; a hood covered its head. He saw the thing turn slowly to face him.

His training took over. His hand came up, perfectly level, in a firing position.

"_Freeze! Republic City Police!"_

Then the figure released something from its hand—and instantly, the far end of the hall vanished in a massive cloud of smoke.

Mako's impulse kicked in as he dashed towards the smoke. His hands heated up a bright red in preparation of a fight, ready to take down this new threat.

Then a cacophony of coughing noises jerked him back to reality. Around him, hostages hacked away as the smoke stung their noses. Mako looked around wildly. Whatever had dropped the smoke bomb was gone.

Mako cursed inwardly as he readjusted his priorities. Sending a steady but mild stream of fire upwards, he heated up the air in a narrow vortex above his head. He felt the air shift almost instantly, the smoke curling up and spinning around his mini-tornado. The smoke began to clear, the air thinning as the noxious fumes were sucked up into the growing cyclone.

_Always be prepared for anything, _Chief Bei Fong had taught him. This particular move, incidentally, was one that he had developed to face a gas leak. _Suck away the gas. Then burn it all in one shot—a red-hot narrow cone of controlled combustion, rather than a devastating explosion._

Mako finished off the tornado with a second, stronger blast of fire that burned up all the gas and cleaned up the air. In that same instant, the front door burst open. A second team of police officers rushed in, flanking a small group of green-clad paramedics bearing stretchers between them.

The young acting-chief-of-police drew a deep breath, suddenly exhausted.

"Chief, the hostages are secure. No significant injuries. We also have three of Kuvira's people in custody." An officer stood at attention before him, saluting.

Mako nodded. "Good job. Let's get these people out of here."

"Sir, we still can't explain how these soldiers were taken out even _before _we entered the building. We're combing the upper floors right now, trying to locate the remainder of the Earth Empire forces."

A policewoman bounded to Mako's side, her steps eating up the distance. "Sir, you're not going to believe this. We found ten Earth Empire soldiers inside one of the Cabbage Corp storage vaults. They didn't put up a fight at all; in fact, they were almost hysterical, begging to be taken into custody. One of them is being brought to the ambulance right now to be treated for psychological trauma and hyperventilation."

Both men looked at her in disbelief.

"Well, we'll—we'll be cleaning up," she concluded meekly. "Chief, I think the situation has been all but handled."

"I think we might have a new problem. Someone was here right before we came into the hall." Mako's mind turned to the shadow he had seen fleeing from the scene. "Put out an APB. All units be on the lookout for a suspect."

"Uh, sure, Chief. How does he look like?"

Mako began to speak.

He summoned up what little he saw of the figure. Formless, black. Dimensionless.

Then he closed his mouth. Finally, he went back to pinching his forehead.

"Never mind."

* * *

Wu braced himself against the wall of the maintenance tunnel, catching his breath. He pressed a sweaty, gloved hand against his chest. _That was close._

"_Wu? Wu! What happened?" _Sato's voice wormed into his ear, the old man's anxiety very audible.

"It was the Republic City police, arrived to save the day," Wu wheezed back. "I dropped a smoke bomb and got out of there. Looks like the situation is taken care of."

"_So it would seem. Well done, Prince Wu. I—I really didn't think you'd actually pull this off."_

"I'm not celebrating just yet. Three more Earth Empire soldiers unaccounted for. That's three too many."

"_Still, three_—" Sato's voice broke suddenly. There was a long, worrying pause.

"Sato?"

"_Wu, you are really not going to like this. I'm picking up some radio chatter coming from the basement car park."_

"Basement car park? Are they the police?"

"_No—Wu, I think they're the three soldiers you're looking for. The magnetic blocking field was not only blocking out Earthbending—it was also blocking radio waves. I don't think they know yet that they're now audible on an open channel. Now—" _A second pause. Longer this time. "_Oh no._"

"Sato. No more dramatic pauses. Talk to me."

"_Wu, listen to what they're saying: 'the weapon is almost ready to deploy.' Something, something…then, 'our comrades up above have fallen. I can hear the police…' And then, 'it matters not. We are ready. Republic City will be destroyed.'" _Sato's voice shook. "_Long Live the Great Uniter._"

Wu was already at full speed, fighting the dull ache in his side, thundering down the utility side tunnel to the side alley exit.

"_Wu, I can hear something else in the background. I think it's an engine. A heavy one, a diesel engine." _Sato paused, and Wu could almost hear him straining to listen closer. "_Sounds like a torque of anywhere from three to five thousand Sien units._"

"A car?" Wu gasped, wincing as he leapt down a flight of stairs.

"_No._" Sato's panic was poorly concealed. _"A tank."_

"A _tank_? Why would they need a tank? And if they had a—a bloody _tank_, of all things!—why didn't they bring it to bear against the police to begin with?"

"_The weapon. They're going to transport it on the tank, out of the building."_

"How do you know?"

"_Because, years ago, Amon came up with the very same plan. A moving vehicle, transporting a very powerful bomb, enough to level two blocks," _Sato said softly.

"_The plan was to get the police to pursue the van and commit a significant number of officers and vehicles to the task. Then the bomb would go off. Casualties would be enormous. And while the police would reel from the shock and switch focus to attending to the injured, we would take advantage of the lapse in police strength to attack elsewhere."_

"A _suicide _attack?" Wu was stunned.

"_A fanatic always considers himself expendable."_

Wu cursed loudly into his communicator.

"This whole hostage situation was just a diversion!" He shouted as he rounded a curve, his momentum causing him to slam into the opposite wall before he regained his footing. "It's this thing, this weapon—they _meant _to lure the police here. We can't let that thing go off!"

"_But, but what—what are you going to do?"_

"I'm heading to the side alley!"

"_But the soldiers are in the car park! Why aren't you—"_

"I'll never get there on time; but I _can _stop them on the road!" Wu slid down the railing of a narrow metal stairway. "Sato, how many rounds are there in the anti-vehicle mounted cannons on the Thunder?"

"_Thirty. Armor-piercing, each loaded with a tiny electrical pulse bomb to disable electronics and delicate instruments. Why?"_

Wu crashed through the last, shabby door into the wet and filthy alley beyond, nearly banging into the parked armored motorcycle.

"Because I'm not going home with empty guns!"

* * *

**Outside the Building**

"Lee Sai Yik. Mr Lee? There you are." The officer made a mark on the checklist. "Onto the truck. Next, Amar San."

Mako turned away, barely listening to the roll call. All hostages were accounted for, and most were to be transported back to the station for evaluation—and to meet their anxious families, who were desperate for news. For once, it was good news. Mako was relieved. At least he hadn't screwed things up too badly in Chief Bei Fong's absence.

"Chief Mako." A bearded, slightly rotund officer saluted him. "The Sixth Armored Division is here. Should we instruct them to relocate, since the hostage situation has been resolved?"

Mako was about to say _yes._

Then a thunderous crash jerked his attention back to the building at his back.

"What—"

He looked around just in time to see an armored van, nearly airborne, burst out of the basement carpark. Its side mirror had snagged a jagged sheet of metal from the ruined basement door.

The van screeched as it turned the corner, wheels screaming angrily—and the angular momentum sent the metal piece flying like a missile.

"_Get down!" _Mako grabbed the stunned officer's head and pushed it down. The bladelike sheet whipped above their heads.

The van charged straight towards the police barricade, its engine keening in protest, tearing a swath of chaos in its wake as officers yelled in shock and dove away from its murderous path.

Already Mako was scrambling to his feet, reaching for his radio. "All units, we have a getaway vehicle heading down Huan Lane. Take it down!"

The agile Firebender set off at a straight run for the barricade.

Mako spun on his left foot, swinging his right leg down like a scythe, and unleashed a sheet of fire that burst from his foot like a whip.

It slammed into the back of the van, cutting a deep gash in the metal surface as if gored by a lathe. But the van didn't even slow down.

_How strong is that thing?_

And then—

"Officers, form a line!" A shouted order came from the police line at the barricade. "On my command, earth wall!"

The officers responsible for securing the building may have been taken by surprise, but the men and women manning the barricade were veterans. They reacted with the swiftness born of experience.

A solid wall of earth, summoned forth from broken pavement and asphalt, burst from the ground, rising in a straight line that blocked off the entirety of Huan Lane. At the same time, a pair of Earthbending police officers leapt onto the wall, metal wires bursting from their belts.

Mako watched as the wires slammed into the side of the van, punching into the thickened armor.

Then the van did something unexpected. The tires shrieked as it spun to the side, the heavy black body dangerously close to toppling over.

As the van continued to move, borne forward by its reckless momentum, Mako saw a figure leap nimbly out of the driver's side door.

The man hit the ground and took the fall with a roll. As the van careened towards the earthen palisade, wires still dangling from its body, the man punched both arms forward while in a perfect Ba Gua stance, the Earthbending energy so potent that Mako felt its pulse even from such a great distance.

"_Long Live the Great Uniter!"_

Made of metal, caught up in the Earthbending force of one of Kuvira's elite soldiers, the van became a devastating projectile hurtling towards the wall of earth—and the line of police officers. And as Mako looked on the ranks of officers gathered at the wall, their shocked expressions dimly visible, an icy cold surge of fear rolled down his spine.

The van smashed into the wall. Like a flimsy pile of pebbles, the earth and cobblestones fell apart in a spray of debris. The vehicle disintegrated, burst apart at the seams—and then exploded.

Too far from the wall, running breathlessly yet watching helplessly, Mako saw his officers thrown back by the impact, falling through the air like ragdolls, as a volcanic ball of fire soared upwards, the last gasp of the broken and destroyed van.

The Earth Empire soldier was grinning triumphantly at his victory, arms still raised, when a blast of fire struck him in the back.

Mako watched him reel in shock, spun around by the force of the impact. Mako didn't wait for the soldier to recover before sending a second blast of flame right into his solar plexus.

The soldier crumpled.

Mako paused, breathless. Worn out. He reached for his radio with trembling fingers.

"Unit Two, Unit Two. We have wounded at the police cordon on Huan Lane, numbering—about, about seven officers, possible fractures and burns. Send backup, stat!" A dollop of sweat rolled onto the receiver as he spat out instructions.

Unfortunately for Mako, the day was dead-set on going from bad to worse.

The sound of an engine. A powerful roar, like the bellow of a beast.

Mako turned around, gaping, as a Republic City main battle tank thundered past the ruined wall and the police cordon, roaring into the street beyond.

Scrawled on its steely impenetrable hide in red spray paint, of course, was the ubiquitous slogan: _Long Live the Great Uniter._

_The swamp-muck has seriously hit the fan, _Mako thought with horror.

Exhausted, fatigued, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of some of his most experienced officers, and with no backup immediately available, Mako could do little but reach for the radio again.

"Calling—calling all units! Kuvira's soldiers have escaped in a _tank_ heading down Huan Lane towards Third Street. Requesting air support, Sixth Division divert down Fifth Street to cut them off! Don't let them get aw—"

Mako was less shocked than annoyed by now, when yet another vehicle roared past him, the back-blast nearly knocking the radio from his hand.

He watched, wordlessly, as the black armored motorcycle sped down the ruined road.

Mako slumped against the remains of the collapsed wall.

"Can this day get any worse?"

* * *

**Yes, Mako. Yes it can.**

**PS. If you have any suggestions, criticisms, comments, or input about the story, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Leave a review or PM and I'll send you my love + Internet gold.**


	6. Chapter 6: Ground Zero

**First off, a serious, heartfelt apology for the absurdly long wait. Three months, oh my goodness! Things have been quite hectic recently; my new semester in third year of med school has been unforgiving to say the least.**

**I don't know how many of you are still following this story. Truth be told, I wasn't sure if it'd be popular, and I was very sure that this would not be one of those stories that garners hundreds of reviews and bookmarks. Then again, I didn't write this to get popular. The few readers who have expressed their enjoyment and enthusiasm have made this whole endeavor worthwhile. It's why I write, after all—why I carve time out of my life to hack out drabbles again and again—so I can excite someone out there, make them feel, make them think, take them to places that _I _created.**

**So here's where we come back in.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a map, a compass, and ninety minutes of time...starting now.**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Ground Zero**

* * *

**Downtown Republic City**

**Four-seventeen in the afternoon**

Chin Fong, twenty-seven, accountant, was out on the sidewalk, his usual four o'clock Jasmine Dragon Skimmed Milk Green Tea Brew in hand, when the noise started.

He spun his head just as the massive metal beast appeared from around the corner, the remains of a Satomobile chassis skewered on its horns. He stared mutely even as cries of alarm rang out, and the teatime crowd dispersed helter-skelter to avoid the oncoming monster.

He watched as the battle tank plowed through the double row of parked cars along Old Memorial Road like a pair of scissors through paper. Laughably fragile automobiles became scrap metal in an instant as the behemoth rolled over them and chewed them up under its wheels. Glass shattered, tires exploded, and car alarms beeped like punchlines to some mean joke, but amidst the chaos, Chin Fong remained transfixed.

The tank barely lost speed as it tore down the street, leaving a string of flattened debris in its wake. As a final parting shot, the barrel of its main gun clipped a parking meter and obliterated it in a shower of little copper coins.

Then another sound filled the air. The roar of an immensely powerful engine, its smooth whine contrasting sharply with the harsh and indelicate roar of the tank. A black motorcycle, clad in sleek plating, rumbled down the road. Narrowly weaving between the wreckage, it sped off after the tank. Chin Fong followed it with its eyes, craning his neck, until it rounded a corner.

He blinked. And blinked again. And looked down.

The cup was empty and his pants were drenched. The lid had broken, and four Republic dollars' worth of tea was now soaking his trousers. He hadn't even noticed.

* * *

Wu could feel the Thunder underneath him, and knew now how well it lived up to its name. The engine growled like a wolf on the hunt, the chassis vibrating with quiet force, the suspension soaking up the disruptive bumps. The road flew by under the tires at nearly a hundred miles an hour, and the bike wasn't even close to max speed yet.

But speed didn't matter if his quarry was a three hundred ton main battle tank with quarter-inch plating and heat-proof armor.

Wu flicked the leftmost toggle near the handlebars. He felt a click reverberate through the bike frame as the cannon barrels unlocked.

_Arm the cannons._

Beneath him, a hydraulic motor neatly slid two self-priming compressed-air canisters into the cannon cylinder. The bike shifted as they made contact with the barrel rifling.

A green light lit up on the dashboard.

The battle tank turned clumsily around a street corner, sending a tiny Satomobile spinning through the air like a pebble as it smashed a vendor cart to smithereens. Cries of shock and horror filled the air, as the good people of Republic City jumped over each other to clear the sidewalks.

_I cannot afford to miss. If one shell hits anything but the tank, there's no telling how many people could get hurt. _Wu licked his dry lips as a bead of sweat rolled down the inside of his mask and settled near his nostril.

His left index finger flicked another, more bulky toggle. A small contraption the size of a radio popped out from above the front light of the bike. A second later, a thin beam of red light flared into being in front of the bike. The dashboard display lit up: _Targeting Systems Online._

In theory, Sato's brainwave was revolutionary. Instead of a pair of iron sights to aim the cannon, a laser would illuminate the target and provide a visual tracker for the user, allowing the cannon to be aimed with surprising maneuverability. Sato's innovations went further; a wavelength-sensitive receiver located in the same machine would detect the returning beam bouncing off the target, hence calculating the distance and angulation of the target—and adjusting the cannons' elevation accordingly. It was ingenious, creative, and devastatingly effective on paper. All that was needed was to aim the red light at the target and blow it away.

In reality, Wu found the task almost impossible. Keeping track of the thin, quivering red dot amidst the chaos of exploding vehicles in bright daylight and the acrid smoke from the carnage, while simultaneously focusing on navigating the numerous crushed cars and assorted debris, was ridiculously difficult.

_Reminder to self. Ask Sato to develop a better aiming method._

As the tank turned up a straight, hundred-meter long road, the red dot at last settled steadily on the hind of the metal beast—and Wu was ready.

_Bombs away._

He pulled the trigger under the handlebars.

The cannons roared. Twin streaks of smoke burst forth from the barrels, soaring in an arc towards the tank—and exploded with a shriek. A backblast of hot gas and vapour spewed from the backside of the tank, and Wu ducked behind the bike shield.

Two neat, circular holes had been punched into the armor, and they were leaking an assortment of tiny metal parts and some black fluid, along with a generous spray of sparks that cackled from damaged wiring. Instantly, the tank slowed—the beast still rumbled on, but it looked as if something important had been damaged.

_Nice._

Wu pulled the trigger again.

He was still anticipating the shells to impact the tank and for another two holes to appear. Which was why Prince Wu was caught unprepared by the Earth Empire soldier who had suddenly popped open the top hatch of the tank.

Wu knew what was happening even before it had happened. The soldier spun in an arc, arms cutting the air, and the shells instantly fell under the influence of his formidable Earthbending. Spinning upwards, veering from their original path, they soared up into the air, missing the tank entirely—and curved back towards Wu's bike.

_Well, this is awkward._

Wu's body reacted before his mind did. He jerked to the side, turning so hard that the bike's motor screamed in protest, his knees so close to the sidewalk that he could almost feel the heat radiating from the sun-baked stone. Behind him, the traitorous shells impacted the streets.

_Okay, new plan._

Wu's formulation of his 'new plan' was put on hold as a new threat surfaced, in the form of the skilled Earth Empire warrior perched on top of the tank. He swerved sharply as a jagged wall of rocky spikes burst from the road, then accelerated past a boulder that had excavated itself from the ground and launched itself straight at him.

_Oh, sure, the bike is non-bendable, _Wu thought dryly, ducking as a hailstorm of rocky pebbles flew over his head with high-pitched zings. _But the rest of the street seems pretty bendable to me._

Wu punched the booster toggle and launched the bike into a ramp-less jump over an uninvited new wall of rock, landing hard just as his communicator buzzed to life.

"_Prince Wu!"_

"Not now!" Wu hollered back. "I forgot that the guys in the tank are _Earthbenders!_"

"_Prince, I've intercepted the radio communications from inside the tank. It's not good. I've pieced together what I can about the weapon. It's an explosively pumped flux compression generator, only several orders of magnitude larger and more powerful than anything I'd have thought possible—"_

"Get to the point!"

"_It's like an electromagnetic bomb, only more powerful! And when it goes off, it'll fry every piece of electronic equipment within two miles and send half of Republic City back into the age of lion turtles!"_

Wu hissed, just as a pair of spiked projectiles missed him by inches. "How long do we have before it goes off?"

"_Two minutes! Someone in the tank is courteous enough to read out the countdown! __Now **shoot the tank **and blow it up before it's too late!__"_

"Sato, they're redirecting the shells back at me. That's not going to work!"

"_What? What do you mean they're—"_

"Sato, remember what you said about this bike being made completely out of non-bendable material?"

"_I do—"_

"Then** _why didn't you make the shells out of the same material?_**"

"_The costs were prohibitive! I had to make do with what I could! How was I to know that someone could bend the shells—"_

"You made this for warfare against a city police force _consisting almost entirely of Metalbenders _you **senile genius!** _What else did you think was going to happen?_"

"_Well, I'll be sure to make a note of it in my pocket handbook when next I can, but can we save the academic arguments for later?" _Sato cried over the radio.

"Well oh excuse me!" Wu yelled back.

The bike screamed, as Wu applied the brakes to avoid a rocky spike that punctured the tarmac just in front of him.

"Sato, back to the bomb. If we can't disable the tank or defuse it, is there a way of stopping it from going off?"

"_No, no there isn't. But—"_

"But what?"

"_The bomb operates on a lower Liuqian-scale compared to an electromagnetic bomb. That means that the wave, while broader and carrying more energy, is more easily stopped by a liquid medium—such as water."_

"And?"

"_If we can somehow drown the tank in, say, water ten to twenty meters deep, it just might be enough to contain the blast wave!"_

"Alright, new plan." Wu turned into a side alley just as an avalanche of cobblestones rained down on the street. "Sato, this bike has a remote controller for the cannons, doesn't it?"

"_Yes it does. I built it into your suit gauntlet."_

"Alright. You're tracking the tank right now?"

"_I'm pinging its location off the radio broadcasting towers in the city. I've got its current position down to a radius of ten meters."_

"Tell me. Where is the next spot that the tank's going to cross over water?"

"_If they're taking the fastest and most straightforward route towards the center of the city—where the blast would do maximum damage—it would be in five hundred meters. They will be crossing over the Han Gang Canal." _Sato's voice trembled with excitement as he saw what Wu was getting at. "_The water is about twenty-five meters deep at that point—Wu, this could actually work!"_

"We'll see, Sato." Wu accelerated out of the alley towards Han Gang Canal. "For our sakes, I hope you're right."

A shower of garbage and dirt exploded out of the mouth of the alley, as the bike blew past the rows of collected rubbish and sped towards Han Gang Canal.

* * *

_If this doesn't work, this means they'll never find my body._

Wu's fingers moved on their own. Lowering the kickstand. Arming the weapons systems. Adjusting the cannon elevations. Methodical, procedural instinct kicked in and overrode the rising fear in his throat that should he fail, he may be enjoying his last few minutes of life.

_Nobody would think to look for the crown prince in a run-down shipping district of Republic City, with a mask over his face. I would be forgotten, a playboy and an amusing footnote in Volume Four of the History of the Four Kingdoms. And the line of the Earth Kingdom dies with me._

He leapt off the bike. As his feet hit the ground, the gentle shock reverberated over every sore joint and every bruised muscle on his body.

_But my forefathers and great-grandmothers were warriors. They fought for a world of order and peace. They gathered a scattered, frightened people and forged them into an empire. Their blood flows in my veins. Their line lives in me._

Wu pulled the package from the storage compartment, cradled it under his arm, and ran for his life.

_So what better way for the last of their line to meet his end—_

He reached the bridge. Fifteen feet wide. Two support beams holding up twenty-tons of steel. Ahead, he could hear the rumble of the approaching tank.

—_than in battle?_

Wu unwrapped the package.

It was boxy and inelegant. Jet black, about three feet long, with a stock that fit onto his shoulder, and a short clumsy barrel. Within its cylinders were thirty high-explosive rounds, fed via a circular belt into the barrel, and driven by a powerful air compressor.

He cocked the barrel.

_And fully automatic._

If the tank took an alternative route, or stopped its advance, Wu's plan would be up in smoke—along with half of Republic City. The prince had to trust in the tank commander's bloodlust—and recklessness.

_Please. Please be an idiot._

The monster approached on the horizon. The last light of day gleamed off the steel behemoth, illuminating the impregnable exterior of a machine of war.

Wu decided to count his blessings. If his count was right, there were only two soldiers manning the tank. That meant there weren't enough operators to use the main gun—which was currently levelled at him.

_Thank goodness for small blessings._

The road crunched under it, the trees shook as it thundered past, and all that stood between it and its terrible, destructive task—was a lone masked figure, clad in black, bearing a weapon so laughably small that it could scarcely hope to penetrate the dense metal plating.

For a moment, the whine of the diesel engines sounded to Wu like a high-pitched laugh.

_That's it. Come for me._

He aimed the grenade launcher.

_Run me over._

He pulled the trigger.

A backblast of air swept past his shoulder. A missile, so small and moving so fast that it appeared as a blur, shot forward.

It exploded off the front of the tank. The flames spiraled in the air, then rolled off the armor to reveal a completely undamaged hull.

_Well, it was worth a shot._

He could see the Earth Kingdom soldier grinning. Perched on top of this machine of death, arms hanging by his side, riding this beast like a smug Air Nomad atop a sky bison.

The tank was fifty feet from the bridge. And approaching steadily.

The soldier braced his legs, then punched his arms forward. Ahead of the tank, two chunks of rock ripped themselves from the soil and flew towards Wu.

He reacted without thinking. His aim readjusted. His finger pulled the trigger. And the boulder exploded in a shower of dirt as the grenade dutifully did its work. Dropping the launcher, Wu ducked and rolled to the left, narrowly avoiding the second rocky projectile.

_That's it._

He scrambled to his feet.

_Let's see if you're still smirking when I'm done with you._

Wu braced the weapon against his shoulder, and held the trigger down.

The launcher spat and spat, each blast pounding onto Wu's shoulder like the kicks of a wild horse. His aim never wavered from the figure atop the tank, still with that grin plastered on his face.

He watched, almost like one of those slow-motion movers, as the soldier's smile fell and his face lit up with shock. He reacted fast. His arms came up, and along with it, a wave of dirt and pebbles that formed themselves into a shield.

It protected him from the blast. It did not protect him from the laws of physics.

Six grenades detonated all at once, all but evaporating the makeshift rock shield. The explosion kicked the soldier off the tank, where he bounced off the hard road and lay still.

Wu was still savouring his small victory when the main gun roared.

_Wait, what?_

He froze just as the first shell sped by him and blew open the half-block thirty feet behind him.

Wu dropped the launcher and dashed across the road. To his left, he saw the turret tracking him.

_How can he be driving __**and **__firing at the same time?_

The second shell hit much closer. A geyser of dirt and rock erupted barely ten feet from Wu. The shockwave slammed him into the dirt.

Ears ringing, heart pounding, limbs protesting, Wu dragged himself to his feet.

His eyes lit up at a beautiful sight.

The treads of the main battle tank, rolling across the first few feet of the bridge across Han Gang Canal.

Wu reached for his gauntlet, his fingers trembling uncontrollably as he felt the smooth surface of the trigger button.

_Please work._

He mashed the button.

* * *

A block away, the Thunder lit up. The sleek bike, concealed under a tarp near the shore of Han Gang, had been parked facing the bridge, with the laser pointer trained right on the first support beam of the steel bridge.

Dutifully, the barrels unlocked. The primers detonated. The Thunder roared.

And the bridge shook.

* * *

Wu felt rather than heard the shots hit the bridge. The steel frame shook as the support beam fractured under the weight of twenty-plus-five tons that were no longer sustainable. As the top of the bridge crumpled, the front of the tank sank down, and the turret dipped lower.

Inadvertently, the tank finished the job.

The main gun roared again. Perhaps the driver was nervous. Or angry. Perhaps it was one useless gesture of frustration, or an involuntary jerk of the trigger. In any case, the shell did its work. It slammed into the rugged steel surface of the road, burrowed its way through the damaged frame—and impacted the second support column.

The bridge fell apart.

Wu watched as the steel frame simply folded down upon itself, beams bending gracefully, fanning over the surface of the water like the wings of a swan. In the middle, the tank bore downwards, dragged down by its own unsustainable weight, as the water received it readily.

The tank sank.

The bomb went off.

* * *

Major Tu saw darkness. It enveloped him like a blanket, pouring through the open hatch, covering his ears, drowning out the world. Liquid darkness, black as night.

Water.

The tank groaned, like the lowing of some domesticated beast. His arms floated slowly up as the river began to fill the interior of the cockpit. He closed his eyes, feeling floating bits of leaves and branches brush against his face.

So this was how he would end.

He thought proudly that Kuvira's enemies would not have the satisfaction of beating him. He died fighting. And he died victorious. Ten seconds from detonation.

Ten seconds, before Republic City would simply cease to be.

Then a sudden force jerked him back.

He felt himself being lifted up, dragged out of the cockpit, pressed and suffocated against the tide of incoming water that filled the tank like a teapot. The fading twilight shone above him. His hands scrabbled above him, and his fingers bumped against the tautness of a metal wire.

The tank exploded.

A low-pitched eruption. The water reacted instantly, churning and boiling. For a brief moment, the tide of the river was overcome by the sheer force of the temporary vacuum. The water rushed inward, downward, forming a fiercely spinning maelstrom above which Tu dangled like fish bait.

Then—

Major Tu braced for the explosion that would destroy Republic City's electronics completely and bring Kuvira's dreams of conquest to fruition.

He closed his eyes.

Nothing.

Panic overtook him. He glanced around.

He was suspended on what remained of the damaged bridge. Arms bound to his side, legs made useless by exhaustion and the weight of his combat boots. A crisscross of steel beams was the pivot by which he was hung. Beneath him, a fifty-foot drop gaped.

He was trapped.

Then Tu saw it. The object of his fury.

A shadow, perched on the edge of a steel beam in front of him. Standing erect, keeping a perfect balance despite the precariousness of its position. Staring at him with empty eyes through a blank, white mask under a dark hood.

Tu spat. "Who are you?"

He struggled. It was useless. Gravity stretched the wire to the full, leaving him with no room to maneuver.

He was tempted to unleash the fury of his Metalbending, to rid himself of this pest. But he knew that the slightest disturbance would bring down the bridge completely. A minute ago, he was ready to die. But the plan had failed. Now, he wasn't sure anymore. And he would not die—not until he got answers. Not till he spoke to the horrid, inhuman thing that loomed like a specter over him, gloating silently.

"Are you human? Or one of those spirit things that the camp prisoners so like to tell stories about?" He scoffed, spitting water from his throat. It burned. "Who do you work for? Are you one of the Republic's soldiers? Or perhaps another one of the Avatar's friends?"

The major's eyes narrowed with hatred. "Your efforts are futile. Kuvira's strength is unstoppable. Even the Avatar could not stand against her. What hope have you?"

The mask leered back. Silent.

"_What do you think you are?_" Tu bellowed. "A warrior? A lapdog, to your weak and spineless president? Or a hanger-on, another of the Avatar's admirers? _Are you a hero?_"

The figure's arm shot out, closing the gap between him and Tu. The major's eyes widened as a gloved hand closed around his neck.

"No." The voice spoke finally. Soft. Toneless. Menacing.

"_I am a renegade."_

Electricity.

* * *

"I still can't believe this."

Mako shook his head wearily.

"We're still figuring out how to get him down from there, boss." The lieutenant adjusted her helmet, sighing with exhaustion. "Our officers have stabilized the bridge with Metalbending. But right now he's kicking and snapping and shouting Kuvira slogans at the top of his voice. It'll be a heck of a job trying to get close enough to him."

The shores of the canal were swarming with police personnel, emergency crew, the fire brigade, and a mob of curious onlookers. The ruins of the collapsed bridge settled in the water like a sheepish, spindly metal spider, with the Earth Kingdom soldier looking like a fly dangling by a thin thread. From the shore, Mako could see that he wasn't too happy.

"And the—I can't even believe this—what about the tank?" He shifted his gaze to the dark shape lurking beneath the water.

"Well, we've gotten a crane to try and haul it up. But it's difficult."

"Why is that?" Mako scowled. "It should be quite easy, the water isn't even too deep—" He bent over the murky surface of the river, his hand reaching out instinctively—

"Wait, no! No sir, you're too close, you'll get hurt—" The lieutenant rushed closer, almost ready to drag him back.

But Mako had already felt it, without needing to even touch the water.

"It's _boiling,_" he whispered. "The water is churning with a massive amount of energy, like an explosion that's going on and on. So much—the last time I felt this much energy in one place, it was many years ago when I was in the power plant. One of the heating chambers sprung a leak, and they had to evacuate the building before the heating rod went critical. Right before I left, I passed right by the entrance of the chamber. It felt just like this—a burning, boiling mass of energy."

Mako curled his fingers. "Right now I can feel it fading fast—but if so, how big must it have been when it first started? What could have happened here?"

The lieutenant shook her head slowly, and shrugged. "Must be a Firebender thing. Us Earthbenders aren't so in tune with heat and the like. All I can feel is that the water is hot. Like a spa, or a hot spring."

"But it's interesting that you say that," she continued, "because our eggheads here," and she gestured to a gaggle of bespectacled people in white coats, probing the water gently with what looked like metal wands, "suspect that the tank was carrying a powerful electromagnetic bomb. Judging from the energy in the water, the weapon must have been powerful enough to destroy everything more sophisticated than a toaster in half of Republic City."

Mako's eyes widened, and his throat went dry. _The hostage situation—it was just a distraction._

"So is the weapon safe now?" He blurted.

"Yes sir." The lieutenant shrugged. "The water's going to be too hot to bathe in for the next couple of days. But otherwise, it seems that the water absorbed most of the blast energy. Maybe some people within a block will have a blown-out radio or two. Republic City, by and large, is safe."

Mako heaved a sigh of relief. _This could have gone worse. A lot worse. _He imagined Chief Beifong returning to Republic City to find that under his watch, half of the city had been set back four hundred years technologically. Mentally, he scolded himself for being too narrow-sighted. _We were just lucky that they didn't succeed. We failed to cover all the angles, failed to prepare for every possibility. Chief Beifong would have had the weapon down and out before they even left the building._

"Still doesn't explain how one of Kuvira's elite troops ended up being strung over a collapsed bridge, with his main battle tank twenty feet underwater." Mako scratched his head.

"Details are sketchy, sir." His lieutenant opened up her notebook. "But eyewitnesses saw the tank being pursued by a black motorcycle. Some say that it was firing some sort of weapon, presumably trying to slow it down."

"One of ours?"

"No." She flipped a page. "They did get a rather—dubious—visual on the rider, though."

"Show me."

The lieutenant heaved a sigh. "This is bizarre. Then again, sir, we're living in pretty wacky times." She handed the notebook to him.

Mako stared. The masked face stared back from under that same black hood. Empty eyes, a smooth visage devoid of marking or flair.

Wordlessly, he handed the notebook back to the lieutenant. Dismissing her with a gentle nod, he strode away slowly.

_So this character was seen in the Cabbage Corp building. Then here. In both cases, Earth Empire troops were taken down._

_Who are we dealing with here?_

Mako knew one thing only.

_Korra has to know._

* * *

**Ten blocks from Han Gang Canal**

**Fifteen minutes after detonation**

Wu clutched at his side, limping painfully through the alley. He hobbled on his one good leg; a blast of shrapnel to his other knee had made his left leg all but useless.

_Damn! How did the police get there so quickly?_

On foot, exhausted, and with injuries that would need taking care of. And with the Little Ba Sing Se hideout roughly twelve blocks away. Wu had to ditch the Thunder—it would have never made it through the airtight police cordon that had closed itself around Han Gang Canal, no doubt tipped off by the hundreds of eyewitness reports of the maddening vehicular warfare half an hour before.

_Hope it's still there. Hope I can get back to it in a couple days' time when things have blown over._

With one hand on the grimy, filthy wall, Wu pushed on, making a quiet tally of his injuries. A dislocated shoulder. Probably a busted kneecap. A cracked rib, maybe two. He made a parallel tally of his available resources. The bike and the handy grenade launcher were gone. He was out of electrified bolas and stun charges; his last gas canister had been used to evade the police one last time while he snuck out from one of the hidden byways in the shipping district. He maintained radio silence with Sato—having the police intercept the signal would be the last thing he needed.

For all intents and purposes, Prince Wu was a sitting duck miles away from home.

"You—you—" snarled the voice behind him.

_Just when this day couldn't get any worse._

Wu braced himself with one hand on the wall, and turned slowly to face his attacker.

It was a ragged-looking man, glaring with crazed and bloodshot eyes with unbelievable hatred. A battered shoulder plate and a strip of verdant green fabric overlying a tattered shirt were all that remained of his Earth Empire uniform.

He stepped forward, fists raised, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he growled in fury.

"_I'm going to kill you."_

Under his battered mask, Wu's own eyes lit up with useless, sluggish recognition. It was the soldier that he had knocked right off the tank with a barrage of grenades. _Suppose that explains why he seems rather annoyed, _Wu thought wryly.

His hand closed into a fist. Shifting his weight onto his one good leg, Wu braced himself.

_I'm not going down without a tussle. Come and get it._

The soldier raised his arms above his head, his hair scattering wildly with the sudden movement. His hands curved down, fingers curling like claws, and Wu felt every brick in the walls of the narrow alley quiver in response.

Slowly, as if struggling against some massive weight, the man pulled his hands down. And simultaneously, the walls groaned—and began to bend.

Wu dodged a falling brick, then stepped back as several more dropped from above and smashed into the floor.

_He's going to bring the walls down on me._

Wu looked back over his shoulder. Like a cruel flicker of hope, the exit of the alley beckoned—thirty feet away. Easily crossed with a sprint. Not so easy to cross with a limp.

One choice remained.

_Take this sucker down._

Wu shuffled closer to the crazed soldier, gathering what remained of his strength. As he drew breath, he felt the energy gather under his diaphragm. His core muscles tightened in preparation of a strike—a last desperate blow. His fist clenched. He fixed his eyes on the demented soldier.

Then, without warning, the man's eyes rolled upwards, and his jaw went slack. Like limp noodles, his arms flapped uselessly down his side, and Wu felt the sickening pull on the walls around him loosen instantaneously.

Unceremoniously, the soldier collapsed to the floor—to reveal a very unexpected sight.

"Well, it really looks like you've got yourself into a real mess this time." The woman stepped daintily forward, her regal scarlet robes sweeping across the detritus. The dying sunlight passed over her features, illuminating the wrinkles and liver-spots of an aged face, and briefly infusing the milky whiteness of a cataract in one eye.

Wu remained in a combat stance. _I have had enough surprises to last for a week._

As the unwelcome figure approached, it struck Wu just how out-of-place she was, here in this forsaken part of downtown Republic City. Her wispy silver hair was neatly plaited into a braid that hung daintily across one shoulder, and a crimson shawl was pinned to her dress by a small, shiny brooch.

_The insignia of the Fire Nation._

"Well? Are you going to just stand there and let the lady introduce herself?" The old woman shook her head slowly, a smile creeping across her wrinkled features. "The strong, silent type I see. Well, I always had a thing for dark brooding guys. Use to have a thing for one—gave her to my best friend in the end. But then settling down and marriage and all that lot—not really my thing."

Deftly, she stepped over the fallen soldier. "Nerve pinch, in case you're wondering. Works in a flash, and if you can get behind them, even better. He'll be fine—but he'll be waking up with a _massive _headache." She giggled softly. "Same could be said of most of the guys I've been with, come to think of it. Though that's a whole different kind of pinching to talk about."

Wu never relaxed his guard. _How many crazy people do I have to deal with in a day?_

"Anyways, you look like you've been run over by a car, so I'm guessing you're going to need some prompt medical attention. I might be able to help with that. So I'll get right on to introductions."

She bowed slowly, never taking her eyes off Wu, her back popping audibly as it bent.

"I am the Chief Administrator of the Fire Nation Regional Defense Authority, and head of Fire Lord Izumi's security detail. Also co-counsel to Lord Zuko, and chief of strategic intelligence. Ring any bells?" She cocked her hand.

Wu stared back blankly.

The old woman heaved a sigh, her brows furrowing in mock annoyance. "Figures. Nobody cares 'bout what you've accomplished as a responsible, working adult—but _noooo, _everybody knows the stories about your adventures as a fifteen year-old sprightly girl with a _killer _body. Guess I'm never going to escape that."

"Alright, let's start again." She lifted her head and smiled at Wu, her wrinkles creasing as her thin lips peeled back.

"My name is _Ty Lee._"

* * *

**Cameo for the win! If Zuko lives to ninety-one and maintains his ass-kicking license, anything is possible. What role will Ty Lee play in the coming conflict? Is she friend or foe? And more importantly, what will happen when Korra, Asami, Chief Beifong, and Bolin re-enter the scene?**

**That's right, you read that in Shiro Shinobi's voice.**


	7. Chapter 7: Serenity

**I'm back, and if you're sticking around, thank you so much. I've been struggling to keep up with work, but I'm not giving up on this pet project of mine just yet. Prince Wu's shenanigans will resume...now.**

* * *

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a scalpel, an unconscious patient, and instructions scrawled across the pages of an anatomy textbook.**

* * *

**Chapter 7: Serenity**

* * *

_Once again, Republic City is in shock! The hostage situation at Cabbage Corp has resulted in the capture of thirteen elite soldiers belonging to the Earth Empire. Meanwhile, the battle tank found at the bottom of Han Gang Canal was revealed to be carrying a massive bomb capable of destroying Republic City's military! _

_With this new revelation, the threat of Kuvira's military ambition has just become certain. Could this push Fire Lord Izumi to join forces with President Raiko in striking against this Metalbending Menace? And most importantly, where are Avatar Korra and Chief Beifong?_

* * *

**The Spirit World**

Her senses returned one by one.

Korra felt the knotted, gnarled roots of the Tree of Time under her, snaking through the soil. She breathed, and inhaled the charged, tingling air of the spirit world, as her nostrils filled with the smell of flowers that would never grow in the human world.

At last, she opened her eyes.

Spirits. Some small, barely the size of puppies; a tiny radish spirit holding the hand of a carrot spirit, looking worriedly at her. Others lumbered out of the undergrowth, ancient and craggy, fixing her with empty expressionless eyes.

"Spirits, this is the Avatar." She knew what she had to do. "Please listen to me."

The mist seemed to recede as more and more ethereal beings coalesced into their corporeal forms—tall and short creatures, feathered and scaly, spirits with wings and claws and masks.

"Since I opened the portals, spirits and humans have lived happily together in Republic City. It's all I could have hoped for. I know you felt the effects of Kuvira cutting down spirit vines. But now isn't the time for you to flee the city." She looked at each spirit in turn. Some glared at her. Others looked lost and hopeless. Still others had no eyes upon which to direct her gaze.

"It's time for you to help me save it from Kuvira, who was perverting spirit power to use as a weapon against other humans." _Please_, she added wordlessly.

"We don't get involved with human wars."

The voice was calm, steely, and bristling with finality. Korra turned around.

A serpentine spirit slithered down through the air, its beak pointed at Korra. Its eyes brimmed with calm and ageless wisdom—yet Korra felt a cold hostility radiate from their depths.

Korra's first impulse was to lash out. _You worked with Unalaq! _She wanted to rub its face in its own hypocrisy, to remind the spirits that they once supported a destructive cause and yet were standing silent at a time when their help could truly do some good.

But it wouldn't work. Korra already knew the outcome of such a course of action.

_They regret it now. They know what Unalaq used them for._

Could she blame them for not trusting humanity a second time?

So she swallowed her pride.

"Please," she said, bowing to the snake-like spirit. "Humans and spirits share this world. And now this world is under attack. We need your help."

"You're asking us to be your weapons." The serpentine spirit drew closer, its beak nearly touching Korra's forehead.

"No." She shook her head slowly. "I'm asking you—to be our allies. To help save this world. Together."

For a long time, neither spoke. Around her, Korra felt the air change with the roiling emotions and charged spiritual energy of the denizens of the spirit world. She looked back at the calm, radiant eyes of the spirit, and knew that its every word was reflected in the thoughts of the spirits all around.

At last, it spoke. Softer now, and perhaps even kinder.

"Avatar Korra, your intentions are noble. I see now that not all humans are like Unalaq, who forced spirits to fight for his cause." It made a circuit around Korra, and she turned on her heel to keep up with it. Her heart began to pound with hope.

"But this is not our fight. No help can come from us—not because we will not, but because we _cannot_."

Korra blurted, "What? Why? What are you talking about?"

"As Kuvira threatens your human world—something threatens us here in the spirit world." The serpentine spirit turned away from her, and faced the tall mountains that ringed the Tree of Time. "Something stirs in the old temples of the asuras. Something terrible has risen and is attacking spirits—destroying homes, tearing apart forests, consuming the land. Something that will eventually destroy us all if we do not act soon."

The spirits around her bowed their heads. A small dog-like spirit joined hands with a tall, lanky, langur spirit, and Korra sensed a palpable aura of loss in their midst. A new surge of sadness gnawed at her heart, like a psychic blowback emanating from the congregation of spirits.

_Loss. Destruction. Chaos. _Scattered fragments of

It wasn't just Republic City—the spirits, too, were being threatened and pushed back by something they had no power to stop.

"This threat will require all of our strength to fight." The snakelike spirit faced Korra, its surprisingly humanlike eyes reflecting sadness in their depths. "All of us must stand fast—to defend our homes, our lives, and the very anchors that bind us to reality. For that reason, we cannot come to Republic City's aid."

Korra wanted to argue, but could not persuade her mouth to form the combative words. What right had she? Like her, they only wanted to defend their home. They needed to protect what was most precious to them. And most of all, her argument would turn hollow with just an inversion of circumstance: why, then, was the Avatar not crossing over and helping the spirit world deal with this terrible threat? And Korra, sadly, grudgingly, knew the answer. She was human. She would, at the end of it all, always side with her own kind over the spirits.

"Is there," she whispered, "is there nothing you can do?"

She looked around. The spirits bowed their heads. None met her gaze.

"There is one who may be of use to you," the serpentine spirit said suddenly.

Korra whirled around. "Who?"

The spirit's eyes lit up with recollection—and a tinge of fear.

"We call him the Outcast."

She felt a ripple go through the crowd around her. Whispers abounded, and many spirits ruffled with unease.

"Who is this Outcast?" Korra inquired, far too loudly. There were a few hisses from the crowd, as if the sound of the word was itself inauspicious.

"A dark warrior, one not from this world. Some say he first came from your world, so many years ago in our time. Others said he is a manifestation of the vengeful energy of spirits long gone. All we know is that he is deadly. He is ruthless. And there are parts of the Wild Forest that are now forever silent because of him." The serpentine spirit spoke the last sentence with unmistakable dread.

"He can appear and disappear in an instant," a tiny radish spirit blurted in a high voice. "I promise it's true. Once I saw him, then I blinked—then he wasn't there! He's like—like a shadow!"

"I heard that not even the _yurei _dare to enter parts of the Wilds that he had claimed for himself. Imagine, the _yurei_—the darkest and most dangerous of spirits!" A short, squat stone figurine intoned, tapping its foot for emphasis. "I tell you why. It's because he's worse than anything they can ever be. This—this Outcast—stay away from him!"

"Maybe the Avatar can persuade him to go back to her world," a hovering bright green spirit whispered. "He might fight for the humans. And in doing so, he might leave us all alone!"

"That's not possible!" The stone spirit retorted. "The Outcast fights for none other than _himself_! And even if he would—he has not been seen here for _weeks_. Where would she find him?"

"She will not need to." The serpentine spirit looked at Korra, whose face bore an expression of shock and concern.

"I sensed it. Three days ago in your time. A powerful disturbance that rocked the spirit world." It blinked, and its beak shuddered. "The Outcast is already in your world, Avatar Korra."

A massive sigh of relief escaped the congregation of spirits. "So we're finally rid of him?" The stone spirit whispered hopefully.

"Wait!" Korra interrupted irritably. "I don't even know who this Outcast is. How am I supposed to find him?" She rubbed her arms, venting her frustration. _I've got a city to protect! The last thing I need is a wild goose chase!_

"I'm afraid I don't know, Avatar Korra," The serpentine spirit replied serenely, as one by one the other spirits began to fade. "Even we spirits could not easily sense him at times, here in the spirit world. I suspect he will be even more difficult to locate in your world."

"But these are tumultuous times, Avatar." The spirit began to fade slowly, even as the trees and rocky formations around Korra began to come apart at the seams, to be replaced by the concrete and grey skies of Republic City. "Turbulence always seems to draw out the Outcast. So I suspect, Avatar, that before you find him—"

His parting words were in a whisper.

"—he will find you."

Korra stood in the clearing of buildings, heaving a sigh as she kicked over one of the thousands of vines enveloping the abandoned city block.

"Do I even _know _what is going on anymore?"

* * *

"Ouch."

Wu stiffened as a fresh bolt of pain blazed down his spine, causing him to stiffen and inadvertently knock his head on the side of the pool. Grimacing, he gripped one of the numerous stony blocks that ringed the circular pool.

"Stop squirming, you little baby," Ty Lee scoffed, combing her hair serenely as she admired herself in a polished mirror. "The pain you're feeling is blood flowing back to your damaged muscles. You're experiencing weeks' worth of physical healing in a matter of minutes."

The prince cupped up the water in his hands. Warm, slightly viscous, and dyed a shade of algae-green.

"Serenity Powder, purified from extracts of _changmin _and _baisui_, rare herbs found only in remote mountains in Earth Kingdom territory. It accelerates the healing process, enabling warriors to recover from broken bones and damaged organs in hours, not months. In its concentrated form, it can even heal extreme injuries if administered directly." The elderly woman waved a small brown pouch at Wu. "It's been a trade secret of circus performers for centuries—lets us heal from serious wounds just in time for tomorrow's show. Thank goodness I carry a bag of it with me at all times, and thankfully we found this abandoned bathhouse at this time of the night."

Prince Wu gently poked the side of his chest. His finger bounced back painlessly against firm, supple flesh; the throbbing pain of his broken ribs was gone. Against his protests, the annoying old woman had snapped his ribs back into place, nearly causing him to pass out from the pain. She had reduced his dislocated shoulder with the same cheery disregard for his agony.

But it seemed that the strange bath solution was working. His shoulder rotated in its joint without pain or hindrance. His knee flexed and extended smoothly. He was healed. _I really need to get my hands on this stuff._

"I have to tell you, I got a bit of a shock when I took off that mask of yours," Ty Lee commented as she began applying make-up. "Of all the people I'd expect to be masked vigilantes, spoiled playboy Prince Wu was certainly last on the list. At first, I thought that this was one of your little—fantasies—maybe a dress-up game you were playing with some eccentric lady-friend. Until I heard about what happened down at Cabbage Corp."

She smeared on rouge, puffing her cheeks out playfully. "Colour me impressed. You took out an entire squad of Kuvira's elite troops and scared about half of them senseless. Makes me wonder who taught you to fight like that. Do rich little princes have some ninja boot-camp to go to in the summer? Learn to throw _shuriken_, do backflips, spout one-liners before kissing the designated love interest?"

Wu turned his head gingerly, glaring at Ty Lee's back. "What do you want with me? And why did you bring me here?"

"Ah, the mysterious type with dark secrets. I like it. Always had a thing for tall, dark and roguish men acting alone outside the law. Fell for one of them once, you know. Back when I was still chasing the Avatar around—the Avatar before this. You know, Aang."

Ty Lee smiled, her wrinkles creasing. "He was a sweet, sixteen year old, handsome thing. Was the leader of a group of freedom fighters in Ba Sing Se. Got seriously injured in a fight with the Dai Li, and he and his fellows were getting ready to make a last stand. He was damn near death's door when I found him. I pulled him away and nursed him back to health with what was left of my Serenity Powder. Would've been a waste to let someone as cute as he was just pass on."

She skillfully fixed her hair in place with an ornate comb. "We parted ways later, once he got better. Said he still had a war to fight, and with everyone thinking him dead, it would be easier to work from the shadows. Shame. He was a cute little thing."

"So you're doing this from the goodness of your heart?" Wu asked doubtfully. "And why did you help me anyway?"

"I'm helping you because you seem to be dead set on fighting Kuvira, and Kuvira threatens the safety of the Fire Nation, little whippersnapper," Ty Lee fired back, pouting. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, especially if he's cute like you. I think a _thank you _is in order."

Wu sighed, then hesitantly: "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Tell you what, I'll leave you a pouch of Serenity Powder. Goodness knows you need it. If you're going to get involved in some more shenanigans, you'll be taking a serious beating, and I don't think you can afford to be spending three weeks in a plaster cast. Add three pinches of powder to one _dou _of hot spring water. Soak in it until it becomes cool." She placed a pouch on the side of the pool.

"I'll be getting along now. Fire Lord Izumi is convening an emergency cabinet meeting in four hours' time. I suspect our nation's policy of non-intervention is about to change soon." Ty Lee capped her lipstick and closed her purse. "So, best of luck with your bad guy-beating and rooftop-jumping, till we meet again. You keep doing what you're doing, and try to throw Kuvira off-balance. Word of advice: control freaks like her, they're remarkably easy to rile up. So many spinning wheels to throw wrenches in."

Wu nodded.

"By the way, if you ever have time to spare—remember the cute guy I told you about? The freedom fighter in Ba Sing Se? He's back in action now, though at freakin' eighty-eight he really ought to retire. Came out of hiding in order to oppose Kuvira's regime. He's been operating out of a small base in the Hutou Mountains, smuggling prisoners out of her re-education camps, but lately he's been having trouble with roaming patrols. Could really use your help, if you can spare it. After all, you're the heir to the Earth Kingdom. You do, you know, owe your subjects your help."

The prince considered this. "I'll look into it."

Ty Lee strode toward the door. "Just tell him that Ty Lee vouches for you, and that _Jet_ owes her one. He'll know to trust you."

Wu shrugged inwardly. _Jet? What kind of name is Jet?_

"Oh, and don't worry about your covert identity. I know how to keep a secret," Ty Lee called back nonchalantly.

He listened as the door slammed shut. Wu stretched his limbs. The water was now as cold as the night air that filled the old bathhouse, and without the benefit of central heating, he was starting to feel the chill.

He stepped out, dried off, and dressed quickly. The suit, vest, gloves, boots, belt, and finally the mask.

He had to get back in touch with Sato. After two hours, the heat should be off, and the police should have switched focus from monitoring radio communication to dealing with the aftermath of the incident at the bridge. He flicked on the radio communicator. "Sato. It's me."

"_Prince Wu! Thank goodness. It's been two hours! Where were you?"_

"Meeting someone unexpected. Anyways, Kuvira's mooks are taken care of."

"_So I've heard. It's all over the police radio. I—I didn't actually think you could pull it off. No offence."_

"None taken. Neither did I."

"_I do have something new for you." _Over the radio came the sound of papers being shuffled. _"Those soldiers couldn't possibly have gotten their hands on top-tier military tech without help from the inside. So I've been going through some of the shipping manifests and dock records. There have been a few suspicious shipments over the past couple of weeks, correlating with inconsistencies in the inventories of military bases around Republic City."_

"You work fast." Wu was impressed.

"_It's how I stayed on top of my game all those years. Anyways, what's interesting is that I've come across a few people who had to have been involved in getting the shipments into the city itself. People who also have, sometime in the past three years, expressed sympathy towards Kuvira's quest for unification of the Earth Kingdom."_

"So, possibly members of Kuvira's spy network here in the city."

"_Or not. Still, it's worth investigating this list of names. If they're really Kuvira's people and you take them down, you'll dismantle Kuvira's network of agents within Republic City, and possibly get vital intel on what she's planning next."_

"I'll look into it." Wu did a quick inventory check.

"_We can try to work something out tomorrow—"_

"Never mind, I'll do it now. Chances are, many of them are packing to get as far away from Republic City as possible, after today's fiasco."

"_Are—are you sure? You took quite a beating just now."_

"I'm better now." Wu flexed his arms. His muscles had regained their strength. "And I'll make do with what I have now."

He checked his inventory. Nearly all of his weapons were gone. His power cells were depleted. He had barely anything left, except his body and wits.

_Zaheer always did say that my greatest weapon was my body._

He reached for the stun batons strapped to his belt. They were out of power. But two sturdy rods of tempered steel with a titanium core still made for a formidable pair of melee weapons.

Wu reached down and pocketed the pouch of powder Ty Lee had left him. "Give me the first name."

* * *

**Three o'clock in the morning**

**Republic Docks, South Side**

"Come on, hurry and load up!" The beefy businessman yelled as the dock hands loaded crate after crate into the speedboat. "It's all gone up in flames; I need to be out of the city by morning!"

"Boss," a lanky, clean-shaven man in overalls tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't you think we should get rid of the evidence first? Set the office on fire, or something?"

"Forget it! There's no point in coverin' our tracks; if anyone does any digging, it'll be plain as day that we were workin' for Kuvira!" The rotund businessman barked back. "What's important is getting out of this city, and getting back to the Great Uniter as fast as we can!"

"That's all I needed to know."

The nearest workman dropped the crate he was carrying, his eyes going wide with surprise. Standing atop the mountain of crates was a hooded figure clad in black, wielding a pair of batons threateningly.

"Shima Hatori, you have failed this city." The hooded man pointed a baton at the stunned businessman.

"Wha—?" The heavy-set man took a step back, sweating visibly. "_Get him!"_

To his side, the tall henchman in overalls assumed a fighting stance. The gang of thugs converged on the speedboat with yells and jeers. "You're going down, little man!" One thug yelled.

The hooded man leapt off the boat just as a rocky projectile slammed into the pile of crates, knocking several of them over into the water.

"Idiot!" The businessman hissed at the tall henchman beside him, who gulped and looked sheepish.

He watched in horror at the scene unfolding before him.

The hooded stranger moved like nothing he'd ever seen. Leaping onto the closest thug, he slammed his batons into the unfortunate low-life's forehead, then spun backward and kicked a nearby man in the chest. Whirling around, he struck a third thug in the kneecap, and as the man collapsed to a kneeling position with a howl, the hooded man finished him off with a baton strike to a nerve point in the solar plexus. Rolling to avoid a hail of rocky bullets, he leapt over the head of the offending Earthbender, who met his challenge with a growl and raised fists.

The hooded interloper switched targets in an instant, bringing his batons to bear with startling agility, parrying the thug's blows with the sturdy rods. As the henchman yelled and swung another blow at the hooded man, the stranger caught his wrist with the batons. Pulled off balance, the thug stumbled.

As a fifth thug fired off a spout of water, the black-clad stranger spun slickly around the disoriented Earthbender and kicked him into the path of the watery jet. It hit him dead in the chest. He fell limply to the ground.

The Waterbender looked on in shock, his arms hanging limply by his side. He barely had time to reflect on his mistake before a spinning baton caught him in the forehead. Reeling, he recovered just in time to begin an intimate relationship with the hooded stranger's fist.

The Waterbender sank to his knees, then toppled over. Stepping over his fallen foe, the black-clad man advanced on Shima Hatori.

"Screw this, I'm out of here!" Shima's henchman cried out as he pulled up his overalls and sprinted away.

He made about ten feet before a loop of wire strapped to two metal balls caught him around the knees, wrapping themselves around his legs. With a cry, he hit the ground. A baton spun through the air like a glaive and struck him on the back of the head.

"Ow," said the henchman simply, before becoming limp.

Shima backed away from the stranger, holding his hands up. "Look, look. Let's talk about this."

"Sure. Talk to my friend," the hooded man replied with a growl.

"Right, sure. Where is he?" Shima blubbered.

The hooded man raised his remaining baton. "Here."

The last thing Shima Hatori saw before he blacked out, was the hooded vigilante's 'friend' getting awfully, awfully close to his face.

* * *

**Six o'clock in the morning**

**Republic City Police Headquarters**

It had been a non-stop grind. Five of the Earth Empire soldiers had resisted interrogation thus far. The one who would talk—couldn't stop talking, about a shadow that nearly killed him. That, plus the endless reams of paperwork to be filed away, left Mako at the end of his tether.

He sighed as he paced the sidewalk, breathing in the night air. Even putting one foot in front of another was difficult. He figured he'd give himself another ten minutes before he waded back into the morass that was now being dubbed the Cabbage Corp Calamity.

Mako stopped, and his heart went to his throat as he spotted the silhouette of a hooded figure. Balancing on top of a streetlamp as casually and steadily as if he was standing on the sidewalk.

The Firebender felt his body tense up. "You there! Stop!"

Then Mako noticed what was under the streetlamp.

Six figures, bound to the lamppost by what looked like metal wire. Three men, three women, all of them unconscious and bearing signs of being roughed up. And taped to the chest of one was a blank sheet of paper with three characters: _Kuvira._

When Mako, bewildered, looked back up, the hooded figure was gone.

* * *

**Ten o'clock in the morning**

**Police Chief's Office**

"Chief, this got mailed to our office just now." The young lieutenant dropped a bulging cardboard box onto Mako's desk.

The sleep-deprived acting Chief swallowed another gulp of the strongest coffee he could brew. "What is it, Lieutenant Xia?"

"Enough evidence to put our six friends away for a long, long time. Definitely Kuvira's agents, all of them. Almost all of them took a deal and turned state's evidence against their remaining compatriots. Right now we've made thirty arrests across the city, and the number's getting higher and higher." She smiled. "Sadly for Kuvira, money doesn't buy _that _much loyalty. Her cadres might resist interrogation, but these scumbags she bought off? Right now, they're singing like yellow-necked turduckens. Her entire spy network in Republic City just came apart at the seams."

Despite not having slept in twenty four hours, Mako allowed himself a wan smile. For the first time, Kuvira was in trouble. It was a costly mistake for her—and an important victory for the city.

"Chief, I heard the rumours."

"What rumours?" Mako glanced up.

"That it was the hooded guy who delivered these six jokers to our doorstep. The whole force is talking about it. Is it true?"

Mako gulped down some more coffee, and nodded.

Xia deflated her cheeks. "The reporters are having a field day right now." She plopped a newspaper in front of the chief. "Hot off the press."

Mako scanned the paper. _Chaos at Cabbage Corp! Who is the Renegade?_

He raised an eyebrow. "Renegade?"

"That's what they're calling him. Renegade, as in renegade Equalist, which is the most popular theory since some say they saw him using electrical weapons. Then again, others say that he's a vengeful spirit, and the 'electricity' was actually some spiritual attack that made each victim see their worst nightmare and collapse to the ground in fear. Anything goes, really, right now. Nobody knows who this guy is."

"I don't know who he is, or what he wants. Anyways, we don't even know it's a man." Mako rubbed his forehead. "I know plenty of women who kick butt, after all."

He slammed his hand on the desk, and rose to his feet.

"What's important is that until we can determine his motivations, our policy is simple. Arrest this—renegade—on sight, and bring him in for questioning." Mako pointed at the sketch of the hooded man that adorned the morning paper. "We can't take any chances."

"Understood, sir." Xia saluted, then spun on her heel and walked out of the door. She paused at the doorway. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Permission is always granted, lieutenant," Mako replied wearily.

"If this—renegade—guy is really on our side," she said, smiling, "I think Kuvira's in for a whole lot of trouble."

* * *

**Underneath Little Ba Sing Se Fashion Mall**

Wu stepped out of the elevator, to the sight of Hiroshi Sato poring over an intimidating-looking pile of documents.

"Wu!" The aged inventor piped up, rising from the table. "I heard the news. Kuvira's spy network in this city is well and truly done for."

The prince unzipped his black vest with a sigh. "I wouldn't count our chickens just yet. We just rattled her cage. We don't know what she'll be planning next." He pulled off his gloves and dropped them onto the table. "What we've gotten, though, is probably some _breathing room. _Time to plan ahead, and to go on the offensive."

"Offensive?" Sato balked. "What are you talking about?"

"I got a tip. There's an underground resistance in Earth Empire territory that's trying to break prisoners out of Kuvira's re-education camp. I'd like to pay them a visit, preferably tomorrow."

"But—but that's deep behind enemy lines!" Sato blurted. "You can't be serious!"

"I am. And I'm not just there to touch base with the resistance." Wu massaged his knuckles. "Kuvira's superweapon is still a clear and present threat. I'm going to see what I can find out about that. If Varrick is worried about it, I'd be too."

"So—so what are you planning to do?"

"Well," Wu replied, "I'm leaving you to hold the fort. Keep tabs on what's going on in the city, particularly with the police. I doubt I'll be able to get in touch via radio, so just lay low."

"Alright, I suppose," Sato stammered. "But what do you hope to accomplish in Kuvira's territory?"

Wu paused, his face darkening as he bit his lip. "Whether I like it or not, I'm the last heir of the Earth Kingdom. It's not Kuvira's nation, it's _mine._ My people are suffering in her camps, and every day more of them lose their lives. It's _my _responsibility to take the fight into hostile territory and help as many of them as I can."

"I'm headed for the Hutou Mountains. There's a rebel base there, led by a guy called Jet. I'll bring some supplies—food, medicine, equipment. Barter with him for intel. And deal with the guard patrols around the area. If I can gain his trust, he can become a potential source of valuable intel in the months to come."

Sato nodded slowly, scratching his beard. "I suppose they were even more wrong about you. You aren't weaker than Kuvira. You do think about your people."

Wu smirked. "Right now, I _am _weaker than her. But history is filled with battles won by the weaker side. If we play our cards right, we'll tip the balance in our favour."

"So how can I help?"

"Well, Sato," Wu asked, "do you still have any Equalist biplanes lying around? Preferably painted black?"

Sato smiled, his eyes brimming with mirth. "Wu, I think I might have something even better."

The inventor beckoned for Wu to follow him.

"Come with me."

The duo strode past the side corridor, towards the underground railway. Abandoned by the city council years ago, it had been resurrected by the Equalists to ferry supplies to and from their bases, falling back into disrepair once the movement collapsed. Wu and Sato boarded the train silently. The doors closed as Sato pressed a button on the dashboard.

"I sent the designs to your newly-acquired subsidiaries, and they worked fast. By now, we should have finished assembling the first draft. Varrick's designs on the Hummingbird Mech were particularly useful." Sato reclined against the window, looking at the blackness speeding past, punctuated only by the lights lining the tunnel. "The cover story is that it's to be used for search-and-rescue by the coast guard."

Wu tracked the movement of the train, mentally assembling their route.

"We're headed towards the old hanger at the edge of the city," he murmured.

"Precisely." Sato beamed.

They arrived a quarter of an hour later. Exiting via a door hidden behind a cabinet moved by a motorized mechanism, they ascended up a flight of stairs and arrived at a steel door.

"She should be ready for you." Smiling, Sato laid his hand on the handle, and pushed it.

Wu's eyes widened as he took in the sight.

"Wow." It was all he could manage.

* * *

**And now that you've read this far, whoever you are, you're legally obligated to leave a review. So get to it!**


	8. Chapter 8: The Freedom Fighters

**The prophecies held true. I return.**

**I'm sorry for nearly abandoning this fic for nearly three-quarters of a year. As I enter my fourth year in med school, time is getting tighter, responsibilities are getting more numerous, and schedules are becoming more unpredictable. Writing has always been a way of personal release, but as of now, I don't have the luxury or ability to commit to scheduled updates as many authors are able to do. Coupled with the fact that I am a very inconsistent worker and often discard several drafts of stuff before I put them up, it's going to make writing a tad more difficult. Nevertheless, what I can commit to is ensuring that I do right by the fandom and my fellow readers and authors, by seeing this story through as far as I can.**

**Thank you for sticking around!**

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing...but in fifteen minutes and twenty seconds, I will own everything.**

* * *

**_Sato Estate, Republic City_**

**_Ten o'clock in the morning_**

"Prince Wu? Your highness?"

Yin was about to knock—then she saw that the door was ajar.

The plate of red bean dumplings was all but forgotten as she dropped the tray, rushing into the room, panic mounting in her heart as she looked upon the empty bed, the neatly folded blanket, and the conspicuously empty cupboard.

"Oh no, oh no oh no..." Yin clapped a hand to her mouth, tears pooling in her wrinkled eyes. "They've kidnapped him again, they have—"

Her eyes fell on the note on the dressing table, folded in half.

She smoothed out the letter with trembling hands. Up on the top was the prince's personal stamp.

_Dear Auntie Yin,_

_You have been nothing but good to me for the past two months. You treated me like your own grandson, and made me a part of your family. I'm sorry for not saying this in person, but I wanted you to know._

_I'm going away on a holiday for a while. I know it's not safe right now, but who knows how long the war will last. I want to get away for a bit—relax, and unwind. So I'm going somewhere with sunshine—lots and lots and lots of sunshine._

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Freedom Fighters**

* * *

**_The Earth Kingdom_**

**_Hutou Shan_**

**_150 000 feet above sea level_**

Prince Wu braced himself as the fighter closed in, rushing across the foot-deep snow with quick even steps. The howling blizzard swept across the Hutou Mountains relentlessly, bringing visibility down to nearly zero—Wu heard his opponent coming before he saw him.

_Two more behind this guy. _Wu sidestepped the man's charge. _One behind me._

The man's thick, furred jacket brushed past Wu's combat armor—and Wu seized his collar. The heavily dressed rebel lurched backwards, imbalanced. Without missing a beat, Wu wrapped his remaining arm around his attacker, pinning the ice axe to his side—and slammed him to the ground.

_One down._

"You're going down!" A yell came from somewhere in the snow, the voice of a young woman. It was answered instantly by the shouts of a dozen other rebels.

Their cries echoed off the cliffside.

Wu drew his combat baton.

_Welcome to the Earth Kingdom. Or rather, welcome back._

* * *

Yin struggled to focus, forcing herself to continue reading. Where could Wu possibly be?

_But the real truth is, Auntie Yin, I'm going away to meet someone. We've been dating for quite some time, but I never really told her about how I feel. Now, with the war going on, I don't know if I'll ever get the chance. I need to see her. To talk things out. So yes, after all that—I'm doing this for a girl._

* * *

The prince dodged the flying chain as it cut an arc across the air. The lithe, tall rebel caught the chain whip with her other hand as her now-free hand clenched into a fist and thrust toward Wu's abdomen. Expecting to hit flesh, her knuckles met instead with the stiff metal of the combat baton.

As the fighter flinched, Wu swung the baton in a downward arc, snapping it against her left kneecap and drawing a cry of pain. His opponent sank briefly to the ground, giving the prince the opening he needed—to drive his elbow into the face of the charging rebel about to catch him in a bear hug.

_No electrical weapons, _the prince reminded himself, even as the rebel fell face-down into the snow. _In this weather, even a few minutes' unconsciousness will kill them._

"Was that supposed to hurt?" The words seethed with venom. Prince Wu turned again, baton at the ready, to meet the angry, snow-stained eyes of the female fighter. The chain whip spun at her hip, cutting an eddy in the falling snow.

Wu heard footfalls. Reinforcements. In the whiteness, he spotted the gleam of several torches.

"Stay back—stay back!" His opponent shouted, raising a hand. "This one's mine!"

The cries around them stopped momentarily. Then, one voice boomed out, echoing over even the howls of the wind.

"No, Yu Piao."

A figure stepped out of the blizzard, the white robe falling away to reveal a suit of brown leather armor—and a gleaming pair of hook swords.

"He's mine."

* * *

_I'm going to have to do something drastic to impress her. Flowers, chocolates, promises I don't intend to keep—these won't do. I need to show her that she can trust me. Which means I need to be there in person._

* * *

"Very impressive." The newcomer stepped in, his curved swords drawn. "Not only have you survived the difficult climb up Hutou Shan, you bested five of our warriors in the snow—the very best terrain where we train to fight."

The female fighter—Yu Piao, it seemed—looked reluctant to quit the fray. Her chain whip was still grasped firmly in both hands. But one glance at her master and she stepped back slowly.

Wu readied his stance.

"Jet, I presume." The built-in voice changer in the mask, coupled with the echoes off the cliffside, made his first words sound like the growl of some unnatural spirit. The effect was not lost on the rebels around. Many of them shrank back.

"If you know who I am, then you must have come here for only one reason." The hooded man raised one sword, pointing it at Wu.

"I have come to talk," Wu answered simply.

"We both know that is not true." Jet twirled both swords. "Enough of this charade. Prepare yourself!"

His speed was frightening. Jet closed the gap between them in nothing more than the blink of an eye, stepping over foot-deep snow as if it was air.

Wu was nearly too late. He twisted to the side a half-second before Jet's blade hooked over the space where his neck would have been. The prince had scarcely a second to collect himself before the second sword swept towards his abdomen.

Wu blocked it with his armored gauntlet—and felt raw strength behind the blow, far beyond what Jet should possess for his age.

In spite of the armor and ski mask, the rebel leader moved like the wind—nearly a hair faster than Wu, a split second more agile—and the young prince found himself summoning every iota of concentration to fend off the older man's strikes.

As one blow, the two blades came down. Wu threw up his arms, and was immediately forced down on one knee.

For all his combat training, the wealth of ten years' worth of hell in the Spirit World, reality ensued for Wu. The body of a seventeen year old raised in luxury was no match for the raw strength of a warrior bred in hardship.

"Fast, yes." Jet strained downwards, putting his body weight on both swords. "But not stronger than me."

"Maybe not," Wu gasped. "But perhaps smarter."

Wu yielded suddenly, causing Jet to stumble. The prince crouched, allowing his armored shoulder blades to take the blow of the two swords slamming down. In an instant, he struck the older man's knees with a sweeping kick. As Jet collapsed into the snow, the prince rolled to the side.

The crowd of fighters roared around them, screaming for Wu's blood. Yu Piao advanced, chain in hand, flanked by three other men with murderous looks behind their snow goggles.

Wu threw up his gauntlet and aimed it at Jet. The triplet cluster of red dots congregated on the man's body as he rose to his feet.

The prince reached for the gauntlet with his other hand, and tapped on the built-in console.

Seventy feet away, the _Sparrowhawk_ received the signal.

The entire snowy arena was suddenly bathed with glaring light, beamed from a pair of floodlights, and the mountainside rumbled with the sound of an immensely powerful engine.

"What the—" Yu Piao faltered, shielding her eyes from the blinding gleam, as her compatriots uttered cries of alarm.

Jet looked at Wu, calmly noting the gauntlet pointed straight at him, and the trio of red beams dancing over his body.

Wu smiled beneath his mask, and swung the gauntlet higher, at the sheer cliff face that loomed above them both.

"Drop your weapons and stand down." Wu turned his head towards the gathered rebels. "Or my cannons will bring down this whole mountain on all our heads."

There was a tense silence, as each and every rebel looked ready to lunge towards Wu, yet awaiting orders from the only one that mattered—

"Do as he says," Jet commanded calmly. "If he has come to talk, talk we shall."

* * *

_But one thing's for sure, Auntie Yin._

_Whatever happens for the coming week or so, please don't worry._

_I'm definitely not in danger._

_Yours truly,_

_Wu_

_PS. Please don't tell Mako and the gang._

* * *

Yin lowered the letter slowly, taking a moment to compose herself. At last, she rose from the seat.

"I'm going to tell Mako and the gang."

* * *

The pair stood a spear-length apart, eyeing each other warily—Jet through a ski hood, Wu through the lens of his mask.

"Few know where we operate from. Fewer still dare to come here." Jet sheathed his swords, one at a time. "So how have you found us?"

Wu lowered his gauntlet, and switched off the targeting module. "Ty Lee."

Jet said nothing. Then, he pulled down his mask.

Wu was glad the mask was there to conceal his surprise. The rebel leader was old, very old, and his face bore a multitude of scars. His unkempt, bushy hair was as white as the snow around them, and his sallow lips curled in barely-disguised sadness.

"Ty Lee. She's still alive, then?"

"Yes."

Jet closed his eyes briefly, smiling without humor. "The world leaves all of us behind—and yet so many of us hang around past our time, like ghosts."

"She said that you and your band of rebels are mounting a resistance effort against Kuvira."

"And if we are?"

"Then it appears our interests are aligned."

"Indeed?" Jet looked sideways at Yu Piao, who looked like she wanted nothing better than to choke the masked stranger with her whip. "And what do you want from us?"

Wu flicked snow from his fingertips. "Kuvira is building a superweapon using spirit vine technology, and it is being assembled here in the Earth Kingdom. It may even have already been completed. I need information on it." Wu winced behind the mask. His shoulders were beginning to throb from Jet's merciless assault.

"And what makes you think we know anything about that?" Jet's smile was lopsided. "We're just a small gang of rebels, perched on a high mountain in the middle of nowhere. Maybe you should be asking someone better...equipped."

"Dispense with the subterfuge, Jet," Wu retorted calmly. "If what Ty Lee tells me is true, you're better informed than you appear. You and your rebels have been raiding Earth Empire supply trains in the past few weeks, capturing shipments of electronic components and rare earth metals. Which means you clearly understand that whatever she's building, it's big—and a threat."

Jet's smile vanished. "And if I do? Why should I trust any of that intelligence to you?"

"Let's say I have a vested interest in ensuring that Republic City stays in one piece, rather than several."

"You come here, beat up my partners, threaten to destroy this mountain—and you expect me to trust a man who refuses to show his face?"

"I expect you to trust a man who is as committed as you are to ensuring that the people of the Earth Kingdom suffer under Kuvira's tyranny no longer." Wu squared his shoulders. "I stopped one attempt by Kuvira to annihilate Republic City with an electromagnetic weapon. Republic City will not survive a second attempt."

"The bomb—the hostage crisis—you?" Jet's eyes widened.

"As I thought. Your network of intelligence is wider than you pretend."

"Not wide enough, it seems. My scouts never saw you anywhere. I've never even heard of you."

"That's the idea."

Both men eyed each other in a silent standoff, still illuminated by the dazzling artificial light. Their shadows danced on the wall, blurred and muddied by the constant snowfall.

"I do not trust you," Jet said finally. "And I believe that the rest of the Freedom Fighters feel the same way." A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd. Weapons bristled.

"But if your threat is to be believed—" Jet squinted in the direction of the light "—you are willing to negotiate, rather than destroy us all with whatever weapon you have hiding behind that light."

"He could be bluffing." Yu Piao narrowed her eyes, tightening her grip on the chain whip.

"One way to find out." Wu turned slowly to face her, and the hand bearing the gauntlet twitched noticeably.

"Enough." Jet raised a hand. "One thing is clear: you have proven yourself a formidable opponent. You matched me in single combat." The elderly warrior smirked lopsidedly. "Without boasting, the number of people who could do so can be counted on one hand—this hand." Jet raised a wrinkled palm—with two fingers missing. "One of those people happens to be Ty Lee, who clearly trusts you enough to endorse you."

"Are we getting somewhere?" Wu said, with an edge in his voice.

"Something for something." Jet pointed a crooked finger. "I still don't trust you, but perhaps I don't need to. You help us achieve our goals, and we will help you with yours. After that, we go our separate ways."

"What are you offering?" Wu growled.

"A very reliable source of intel on Kuvira's latest project, intel that could potentially change the outcome of the war. Information—available at a price, of course." Jet smiled.

Wu wasn't enjoying the game. "What kind of price?"

"We are about to undertake a major operation into the surrounding district, but we're going to need heavy duty firepower to pull it off," Jet explained. "Mech suits."

"And you believe I can help you obtain them?"

"There is a military base not far from here with a depot of surplus mech units. "Top-of-the-line combat models, in use by Kuvira's army. Obtain them for us, and we'll consider your end of the bargain upheld."

Wu cocked his head. "And obviously you think I can pull it off alone—"

"Correct," Jet interjected.

"—without bringing the entire Earth Empire army down on your hideout here in Hutou Shan."

"Also correct. I trust your combat skills are matched equally by your discretion."

Wu was silent for a moment. "You place a lot of trust in outsiders. How do you know I won't sell you out to the nearest military commander and put an end to your rebellion, right here?"

"Because she will be following you." Jet jerked his head, and Yu Piao stepped forward. If looks could kill, Wu would have died a dozen times over beneath her smoldering gaze.

"One step out of line, tough guy," she said, slinging the whip deftly over her shoulder, "and I'll end you myself."

"Like I said," Jet said calmly, "I don't trust you."

Wu looked the female rebel up and down. She was slender, only an inch or so shorter than he was, and well-built—very much like Korra's physique. Her hair fell down to her shoulder, snow-flecked and wild, and her cheeks were smeared with war paint. Her lips were rosy red, and she was by all standards quite attractive—if not for the murderous gaze she trained on Wu.

_Guess this is the closest I'll ever get to a proper date...aaaand she wants to kill me._

Wu lowered his head stiffly. "Very well." Turning on his heel, he walked away from Jet, in the direction of the light. "I trust our business here is concluded."

Jet replied with a silent nod.

"Get packing, tough guy." Yu Piao shouldered her backpack, buttoning the top of her wool jacket. "It's going to be a long climb down the mountain."

Wu tapped on the control module of his gauntlet.

Behind the light came the roar of a powerful engine.

"_We're not climbing_," said Wu calmly, striding past Yu Piao's frozen form.

* * *

**_Ten spirit-years ago_**

**_Eighteen days after Wu's entry into the Spirit Wilds_**

"Too slow!"

Wu's clumsy strike broke easily as Zaheer's fist closed around his wrist. Effortlessly, the bearded monk twisted his arm around, then flipped him over in the air as easily as if Wu was a pancake.

The prince lay in the mud for a good minute, bubbles rising in the muck from his half-buried nose. It took several tries to get back on his feet, accompanied by a bout of coughing and spitting.

"You lack control over your body." Zaheer crossed his hands behind his back. "You always lead with your right. Your shoulder remains still when you feint a punch, but dips low a split second before you throw a real one. A skilled enemy can read you like a book." The monk tapped Wu's leg briefly with the tip of his bare foot. "Your hips are out of sync. Your footwork is atrocious. Keep this up, and nothing I teach you will let you survive past the first day on your own."

Wu spat a glob of mud from the inside of his cheek. "Hey—hey—not my fault I'm not raised by some super fighter family—"

"Up." Zaheer beckoned.

"Can't I rest—"

"You had one minute lying in the soft mud. That's luxury enough for a day." Zaheer uncrossed his arms and stepped back.

"Mako let me rest every fifteen—"

"Your police friend was humoring you for an afternoon's amusement." Zaheer readied his stance. "I am teaching you to survive in a world where everything is out to kill you. He never expected to make you a fighter. I do. Make your choice."

Wu steadied himself on his feet, then clenched his fists.

"And this time," said Zaheer, "try to last beyond two hits."

Wu charged.

* * *

_**Republic City Police Headquarters**_

_**Present Day**_

_**Eleven o'clock in the morning**_

Korra barged in the door to find an extremely weary Mako nested in an extremely untidy office.

"Mako! I heard about what happened at the Old Cabbage Corp—are you alright?"

The acting police chief tossed aside a dossier and slumped on an outstretched arm. "Aside from not having slept in two days—just fine."

"I can't believe Kuvira would have the guts to strike _here_, right in the heart of the Republic!" Korra clenched her fist and glared out the window. "Good thing you guys were on hand to deal with things."

"That's not the only problem that's cropped up," murmured Mako. "Korra, Hiroshi Sato escaped from prison a week ago."

"What? How are we knowing this only now?" Korra's eyes widened. "And—does Asami know?"

Mako nodded slowly, his expression darkening. "We've been on his trail for the past week, but it's gone cold. He's straight up vanished, and with Kuvira's agents very likely still out and about, we can't spare any resources to hunt him down. He picked a very convenient time to break out."

He sighed. "Asami knows. She feels betrayed by her dad—again. Especially now that he's chosen to evade justice after all that talk about feeling sorry for what he's done. Someone needs to go talk to Asami once—once things have settled down."

"I'll handle it," said Korra, with a resigned frown. Nothing seemed to be going right of late.

"But enough bad news from my end." Mako straightened up and gave Korra a tired smile. "How did things go with the spirits?"

The Avatar shook her head in disappointment. "It was a no-sell. We can't count on the spirits to help us through this mess."

"What?" Mako threw his hands up in the air. "Why not?"

"They're reluctant to get involved in a human war. And it seems that the spirit world is also facing some sort of threat. I can't ask them to abandon their homes to fight for us."

"So we're on our own, then." Mako ran his fingers through his hair.

Korra looked thoughtful for a moment. "One of the spirits did mention someone willing to help us. A spirit warrior from their world. It sounds like most of them are scared of him. They say he's crossed over from their world into ours—and that he might be willing to fight for us against Kuvira."

"Okay." Mako raised an eyebrow. "And any leads on where we might find this...warrior?"

Korra grunted in frustration. "They say that in time, he'll find _me_."

"That's not helpful." Mako leaned back in his chair.

"I know. Every day Kuvira edges closer to Republic City. I can't be off on a wild-goose chase for some powerful spirit warrior somewhere in the city. I don't even know if he exists!"

Mako opened his mouth, then closed it as his eyes roved over the dossier he just tossed aside. Wordlessly, he flipped through a few pages of the sparse file, pausing over the after-action reports of the Cabbage Corp Calamity—and the sketches of a hooded, masked individual.

"Korra, there's something you might want to look at," began Mako. And then the phone rang.

The young man pulled the received clumsily towards him. "Acting-chief Mako, Republic City police."

His eyes widened, and his lips drew in a thin line. Korra stiffened as she recognised the clear signs of alarm.

"Alright. Take care Auntie Yin—please, rest a while, I'll be back soon—yes, don't worry, I'll do what I can—we'll get him back."

He replaced the receiver.

"Korra," said Mako, "Wu has just gone missing. Again."


End file.
